Everything's Not Lost
by lookatmeinhiding
Summary: She's not sure why she feels the need to protect the girl she's invested so much time and effort in torturing, but the sight of Rachel's tear-streaked face and sound of her sobs has impacted her more than she'll probably ever be comfortable admitting.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I swore I would never write a story. However, recently I've had all these ideas flitting around in my head about what I want to see out of the show, things I know will never happen, so I decided to take it into my own hands.**

**So, this is going to be slightly AU. In my world, Rachel and Jesse never dated, they were just good friends. After Jesse graduated he sort of stayed around in Ohio doing community theater and hanging out with Rachel a lot. Finchel is a distant, distant memory. Brittana are happily together. **For the most part though, everything is as it is in the show. **In the general timeline, though, especially in terms of ages, this is probably around the middle of Season 2. **

**Warning: This story deals with the aftermath of non-consensual sex.**

**Also massive, massive thanks to my beta/life coach/grammar nazi/tattoo encourager, Autum (Texaswatermelon).**

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><p>This morning is wrong.<p>

She's not sure why or even how she knows, but everything feels off. Her elliptical sitting motionless in the corner mocks her, reminding her that it's past six.

She sighs in defeat and begins her day- sliding her legs from under the covers and swinging them over the edge of the bed, feeling the chilled hardwood underneath her toes, trudging slowly to her en suite bathroom… only to open her eyes to the depressing realization that she's still in bed.

After an intense mental debate and complicated negotiation, she decides to forego her cardio routine. The sense of foreboding twisting itself into a tangled knot in her stomach is enough to ensure that she won't need to burn any calories today, as she won't be eating.

As a self-professed control freak, she is furious that she can't control her own mood. No amount of talking herself through her day (_It's been three months. You won't even see him. You were fine yesterday.) _can negate the feeling of dread and despair pressing down on her chest. The mere thought of the next nine hours almost sends her crawling back underneath her covers to sleep away the day.

x x x

She isn't sure how she does it, but 7:30 finds her downstairs on a barstool in the kitchen clutching a steaming mug of black coffee. Her messy bun of wet hair drips down her back, soaking into the hoodie she threw on after her shower. The rising steam swirling up from her coffee pulls her into a memory. A memory of warm breath and hands and teeth and slurred, drunken panic. Her heart beats faster and eyes clench tighter as she tries in vain to banish the unwanted thoughts.

The intrusive honk of a horn from the driveway jolts her out of her trance, sending her to the sink to dump her coffee with shaking hands and collect her school bag before sprinting out the door and down her front walkway to meet Noah Puckerman at his truck.

As she hoists herself up to the ridiculous height of the passenger's seat, Puck greets her with a mumbled "Hey, Rach." For once, she's glad that he's not much of a morning person. She's more than content to sit in silence on the short ride to school.

They've had this arrangement for a few months now. One morning, a morning where she was feeling confused and hurt and embarrassed and full of dread and at the same time wondering how the hell she was supposed to get to school while her car was in the shop, Noah Puckerman answered her call. He showed up on her doorstep, helped her into his truck, and informed her that he'd gladly transport her as long as she'd have him. No prying questions about her abrupt shift in demeanor that morning or her sudden lack of a ride to school, no pitying looks or hugs or condescension. Just Noah and his truck- an arrangement that lasted long after her transmission was repaired and her car returned to its usual spot in the driveway.

As they pull into the McKinley High parking lot, Puck breaks the silence. "You still coming to that party at Santana's tonight?

Rachel mentally cringes. She'd forgotten that it was Friday. That she'd promised Puck she'd accompany him to Santana's party. But she certainly hasn't forgotten that the last thing she could possibly want to do is spend her night with high-school boys in the presence of alcohol. Again.

"Yes, of course. Are you still picking me up?" She gives a weak smile to make up for the obvious uncertainty she's sure comes across in her tone.

"Yeah, sure. I have to miss Glee today so I'll find you a ride home, but I'll be by to pick you up tonight."

Rachel thinks she cares but can't find the energy to muster up a real reaction. It's like she knows what her emotions should be but just can't feel them. So she just nods and smiles. "All right, Noah. Thanks for the ride."

x x x

After an uneventful morning of classes, Rachel wrenches her locker door open. She's thrown herself wholly into her note-taking and group work all morning in hopes of distracting herself and covering up the despair and confusion gnawing its way through her chest. She thrusts her book bag into her locker and is about to grab her money for lunch when she feels a large hand on her shoulder. Her blood runs cold and entire body freezes. All she can feel are his hands on her. The rough edges of his fingers as they circled around her wrist. His giant palms, sliding down…

"Rachel! RACHEL!"

She's jolted out of her thoughts by Finn frantically waving his hand in front of her face. She vaguely registers the word "party" and some sort of drinking gesture that looks ambiguously obscene before she turns away abruptly and sprints towards the girls' restroom.

She doesn't notice the hazel eyes of Quinn Fabray, peeking their way from around a locker door six lockers down. She certainly doesn't notice them widen as she escapes from Finn and runs down the hallway and through the restroom door.

x x x

Rachel shrieks in frustration and slams a bathroom stall door shut behind her. The clanging metal offers little catharsis for her anger and hurt. Unable to hold back any longer, a tear squeezes out from behind her closed eyelids. Another follows and before long her tears are streaming down her face, accompanied by deep, heart wrenching sobs tearing their way from within her chest.

Her strangled gasps and the almost inhuman cries escaping her throat camouflage the small click of the bathroom door opening and the soft squeak of rubber on linoleum caused by the soles of Quinn Fabray's cheer shoes. She's too consumed with her own pain to notice the presence of her enemy.

That's how Quinn finds Rachel when she pushes open the unlocked stall door; curled into the back corner of the tile wall, on the verge of hyperventilation.

Quinn stands frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden vision of Rachel Berry with her guard down. A girl who survived, head held high, through taunts and slushies and solos snatched from under her. But now… Quinn had never seen someone look so utterly defeated and broken. She's not sure what she expected to find once she reached the bathroom, but honestly she hadn't thought much about it. Her gut instinct told her to follow Rachel… and that instinct promptly ceased helping her after that point.

Rachel's head lifts from her hands up towards the stall door where Quinn is still rooted to the ground, wide eyed, brows creased in concern. With a sharp but shaky breath, Rachel stands up straight and attempts to compose herself, wiping her tear-streaked face with the backs of her hands and focusing on breathing steadily. She makes a move to walk past the cheerleader, out of the stall and out of the bathroom.

Quinn, acting entirely on impulse yet again, steps in front of Rachel and after only a split second's hesitation envelops the smaller girl in her arms. She's not sure why she feels the sudden need to protect the girl she's invested so much time and effort in torturing, but the sight of Rachel's tear-streaked face and sound of her sobs has impacted her more than she'll probably ever be comfortable admitting.

For a few short moments, Rachel stands wrapped in Quinn's arms next to the toilet in a dingy bathroom in the middle of the junior locker hallway at McKinley high. She lets herself soak in the security and comfort of burying her face into a warm shoulder and relishes the arms wrapped tightly around her upper body, hand cradling her head. Then she remembers. She remembers the slushies and the insults and the put-downs during Glee. She remembers that the entire purpose of her perfectly crafted façade was to keep people like Quinn Fabray _out._ Out of her head, away from her feelings. If she couldn't reach Rachel's worries and insecurities then she couldn't hurt her.

Before Quinn has completely registered all that just happened, Rachel is pulling away. And by the time Quinn has opened her eyes back up and turned around, all she sees is a flash of plaid and the bathroom door swinging closed behind Rachel as she escapes to the hallway.

All traces of concern disappear from Quinn's face and are replaced by a clenched jaw and pursed lips. Angry with herself for letting her own guard down just because Rachel's was compromised, she vows to ignore Rac- _Manhands _from now on. She doesn't need to be involved in anyone else's problems.

Flooded with resolve, Quinn leaves the restroom with a huff and heads to join the rest of the Cheerios at lunch. She often finds that discussions of hair dye, lipgloss, and 5 for $25 panties at Victoria's Secret can take her mind off of almost anything.

x x x

Rachel rushes straight from the bathroom through the empty halls to the auditorium. Collapsing into a seat in the last row of the dark theater, she allows herself to finally relax and reflect on the disaster that her day has been. She's not sure where these moods come from but once she wakes up she knows. It's a sinking feeling in her stomach that follows her around for the entire day. It brings memories she'd rather not recall and causes mood swings of disastrous proportions.

She groans internally as she remembers what just happened in the girls' restroom. _What was that? _She's frustrated at herself for not locking the stall door, for not pushing past Quinn once she appeared, for allowing herself to collapse into Quinn's arms for those few short seconds. Her enemy has just seen her at her weakest and most vulnerable… then _hugged _her. She's really not sure what to make of what just happened. She's deathly afraid of walking back out and facing the school. She's sure everyone knows. She's certain there was some sort of ulterior motive behind Quinn's actions and she can't help but cringe at the thought of what it could be.

Her eyes widen at the thought and she decides to hide out in the auditorium until Glee. It's probably a bad idea given what's just happened and the number of jocks and Cheerios in Glee club, but she's willing to take the chance. Rachel Berry does _not _miss Glee club.

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><p><strong>Well, there it is. Chapter 1. This is my first story… EVER. Review and let me know what you thought? Even if its one word! I live off of feedback. <strong>

**Thanks so much for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited the last chapter! I'm so glad you all are enjoying it.**

**I've got quite a few things planned for everyone so I hope you all stick around to see what happens!**

**Once again, thanks to my awesome beta Texaswatermelon, and my suggestion-giver/inspiration provider, beaner008.**

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><p>Rachel's arrival to the choir room 15 minutes before Glee starts means she has her pick of seats. Preferring isolation, she makes her way to the far right corner of the back row.<p>

Other glee members start appearing periodically as their classes are let out; most acknowledge Rachel with a small smile or nod but choose seats in the front rows.

The cheerios appear all at once: Quinn meeting Rachel's eyes for the briefest of moments before taking her obligatory seat next to Finn, Santana and Brittany, hand in hand over the threshold until Brittany leans up to whisper into Santana's ear. Breaking apart their intertwined fingers with a huff, Santana stalks her way into a seat in the second row next to Mike and Tina.

"Hey Rachel." Brittany settles into the seat immediately next to Rachel's. Brittany's apparent lack of her usual ignorant happiness and choice to sit there of all available seats causes Rachel's brow to furrow in perplexity.

"…hi?" She doesn't intend for it to be a question, but the heightened tone at the end of the word betrays her confusion. Brittany, however, either doesn't notice or refuses to acknowledge Rachel's obvious bewilderment, choosing instead to turn towards the front of the room while slyly grasping Rachel's left hand with hers.

As Rachel's back stiffens and her eyebrows disappear below her bangs in surprise, Mr. Schuester begins to write on the white board. Rachel follows the lines from Mr. Schue's marker but rather than paying attention to whatever it is he's trying to get them to sing about this week, she's more focused on the unfamiliar sensation of slender fingers threaded through hers.

Her heart starts pounding and her stomach twists again in anxiety. _Why is she here? She's never done this before. What does she know?_

As if sensing her distress, Rachel feels Brittany's hand squeeze hers lightly and as she turns her head Brittany gives her a small reassuring smile and a nudge with her shoulder. "Puck said you need a ride?"

Rachel instantly relaxes. A ride? It never occurred to Rachel that Brittany had a car… or that she even knew how to drive. _Who on earth let Brittany pass a drivers test?_ Rachel wondered suddenly.

Rather than beginning to worry about her safety (_31 blocks isn't too long of a walk, right?)_ she focused on the relief she felt at the realization that Brittany wasn't being friendly out of concern or worry. She was simply a touchy-feely person by nature. And she was just giving her a ride home in place of Puck. That's all.

Rachel warily casts a sidelong glance at Quinn just to make sure she has no part in this, but the Cheerio is filing her nails while pretending to be deeply absorbed in a conversation with Finn about the merits of flannel, or something.

She turns to the blonde at her side and smiles. "Thank you Brittany."

After various attempts by the glee club members to sing something relevant to Mr. Schue's lesson and somewhat aurally pleasing, 5pm thankfully rolls around and Rachel gathers her things, following Brittany to her car.

x x x

Before Rachel is even able to buckle her seatbelt, the blonde cheerleader's small voice pipes up from the driver's seat.

"So, why are you so sad today, Rachel?"

She doesn't know how to answer. She's not sure how Brittany always seems to be so damn insightful, but Rachel is beginning to seriously question her show face. If the girl who confused ballads for mallards and on occasion forgot her own middle name could see how much Rachel was really hurting inside, then she had bigger problems than she thought.

"It's just been a long day. I'm sure a short nap before Noah picks me up for the party tonight is all I need."

"You know sometimes San freaks out when I touch her just like you did today with Finn. I don't think you should be sad about it. Nobody noticed but Quinn and me. Not even Finn."

"Wait, you were with Quinn? You- you saw that?" Rachel can feel her heart starting to race in her chest, pounding as though it were trying to escape from behind her ribcage. _No. No, no, no!_ First Quinn, now Brittany. Was she that obvious?

"Yeah, I was with Quinn. Did you get your homework figured out?"

Rachel's genuinely confused by the sudden change of subject. "…my homework?"

"Yeah," Brittany responds, oblivious to Rachel's bewilderment, "Quinn said you needed help with your math problems in the bathroom. Did she help you?"

Despite the mood she's been in all day and the serious turn she thought this conversation was taking, Rachel is finding it painfully difficult not to burst out laughing at Brittany's inquiry. She manages to keep a straight face in order to answer her; "Oh… yes, Quinn was very helpful."

A smile lights up Brittany's face. "Good! I wanted to go with her but she reminded me that last quarter I got a D in math and she should probably help you alone." She purses her lips and shrugs her shoulders.

Rachel smiles at Brittany's gullibility and Quinn's apparent attempt to keep the truth from the less intelligent blonde. Maybe she doesn't have as much to worry about as she thought.

By the time they reach Rachel's street, Brittany is singing at the top of her lungs to a Spice Girls song and Rachel's eardrums are in serious need of respite so she's not at all unhappy to leave the warmth of Brittany's car.

She watches Brittany reverse out of her driveway from her doorstep with a look of consternation on her face, bottom lip captured between her teeth. She has four hours before Noah will be by to pick her up. Four long hours to stew in her emotions while she gets ready for the night. She turns to face her silent, empty house with a sigh and traipses up the stairs to her bedroom.

x x x

Santana, showered and in her comfiest McKinley High sweats, sits on the granite countertop of her kitchen island, bottled water in one hand and cell phone in the other.

She can't quite figure out why Brittany is so late. She's supposed to be coming over to help Santana set up for the party tonight… well, maybe 'help' is a little generous. Usually when this happens they end up in Santana's locked bedroom for a couple of hours before rushing to the grocery store, fake IDs in hand, for handles and some Solo cups. It's an unspoken rule that Puck will bring the kegs, although he's driving Berry of all people tonight, so god knows how that will work.

She suddenly hears a loud bass from out front and opens her front door to "Spice Up Your Life" blaring from Brittany's car speakers. Santana lets out an uncharacteristic giggle at the adorable blonde singing at the top of her lungs, even after turning the car off. Brittany bounces up the steps towards Santana and throws herself into her girlfriend's waiting arms.

"Hi San!" Brittany mumbles into Santana's neck, "I missed you since glee."

"Britt, it's been like 45 minutes," she chuckles at the blonde and wraps her arm around Brittany's waist, guiding her into the house and closing the door behind them. "Speaking of which, what took you so long? Did you get lost again?"

"Oh, no, not this time," Brittany replies. "I drove Rachel home."

"You what?" Santana can't keep the incredulity out of her tone. It's not that she doesn't like Berry, it's just that…. Well, they aren't all the greatest of friends. She's gracious enough to not have a problem with the midget coming to her party tonight, but being driven home by her girlfriend? Really? "Why'd you do that, B?"

Brittany's face falls a little at the delivery of the question, or maybe the question itself… Santana's not sure.

"San, Rachel's been really sad lately. I don't like it when she's sad. She's been all quiet and weird since before winter break." Brittany sighs, "That's when she and Jesse stopped hanging out. Remember? Do you think that's why she's sad? Because she doesn't get to see Jesse anymore?"

Santana's eyebrows pinch together. She hasn't really thought about it but now that she does, she realizes she has noticed a slight change in the dwarf's demeanor.

Brittany continues, "And today in the hallway when Finn touched her, she freaked out. I mean he's big and kind of scary and he wears those creepy puffy vests but then Rachel started crying…" Brittany looks genuinely distressed at the memory and turns toward Santana as if asking for answers.

Santana grits her teeth at the story her mind is weaving. _Stop being melodramatic, Lopez. Berry's probably fine._ She ignores the part of her mind that wants to remind her of how intuitive Brittany usually is and instead just wraps the blonde in her arms. "Don't worry, B. I'm sure she's ok. You know how dramatic Berry can be." Santana leans forward and captures the girl's lips in a kiss to lighten the mood. She's thankful for how easily distracted Brittany is as the girl moans and returns the kiss.

She pulls herself away after a moment of letting herself enjoy the feel of her girlfriend's lips. "Now, I believe we have some business to take care of upstairs." Santana smirks and smacks Brittany's ass as she shrieks, pulling away and taking the stairs two at a time to Santana's bedroom.

x x x

Rachel's not sure when it happened, but at some point during the day she started looking forward to the party tonight. It's probably dangerous but she's anticipating the alcohol and the music and the dark. If she gets enough shots in her she's able to forget everything troubling her and live like any other teenage girl: without worries or stress or memories she can't get rid of.

Sometime during the day a goal wormed its way into her head. _Forget._ If she can spend one night so incoherent she can't remember her own name, maybe she can get through the next week without falling apart.

A honk from downstairs draws her from her reverie and she sighs. She's been explaining to Noah for ages that gentlemen leave their cars to ring the doorbell and escort a lady to their car, but he always brushes her off and reminds her that he drives a truck.

She hastily scribbles a note for her fathers _(working late, as usual)_ asking them not to worry about her and rushes out the door to meet Noah.

The moment she steps over the threshold Quinn's senses are inundated with the smell of alcohol and weed and the uncomfortably sticky humidity caused by hundreds of sweaty bodies packed into the first floor of Santana's house.

Before she can glance around and get her bearings, Finn appears at her side with red eyes and a giant, goofy smile on his face.

"Hey, Quinn! You finally made it!" He hands her a (thankfully unopened) beer and takes her elbow to guide her to the kitchen. As she passes through the living room, she catches a glimpse of Rachel through the mass of bodies, chugging something from a red cup and making a pained face as she swallows. Quinn's eyebrows knit together in concern. The scarcely five foot tall girl could probably get drunk off of liquor fumes alone, so Quinn is more than a little worried about the amount of alcohol she seems to be ingesting at the moment.

Santana comes around the corner from the kitchen and launches herself into Quinn's arms. The excess pressure on her shoulders and strong smell of alcohol on the girl's breath makes her realize, though, that Santana is mostly using Quinn's body to keep herself from falling over after tripping over her five-inch heels.

"Whoaaah. Hey, Santana. Started early tonight, I see?" Quinn laughs as she talks to her fellow cheerleader, who is now on her own two feet but weaving rather unsteadily.

"Yesss, I sure did, Q," Santana answers with a toothy grin. "See if I start early I can finish early and make sure nobody throws up on my mother's wingback chairs again."

"Santana, that was you." Brittany appears out of nowhere and loops Santana's arm over her shoulders.

Santana looks chagrined. "Oh… yeah."

Quinn laughs at the couple's interaction as they start whispering to each other then realizes she's lost Frankenteen somewhere between being pulled into the room and getting attacked by Santana. She sighs and leaves the two cheerios who have just wrangled each other into the corner of the living room and now seem to be trying to swallow each other's tongues.

She does a quick loop of the room and discovers that height certainly does have its advantages, like when trying to track down an inebriated football player who just happens to be well over six feet tall. She locates Finn from across the room and begins to make her way towards him, noting out of the corner of her eye that Rachel has stumbled into the kitchen and is sitting on a barstool watching the activity around her. Content that the small girl seems to be safe for the moment, she begins to muscle her way through the people towards Finn.

x x x

Rachel looks across the room, through sweaty bodies grinding around the couches and coffee table of Santana's living room, and sees Noah leaning against the wall talking to a couple of giant hulking boys she recognizes from the football team.

As if he senses her gaze, Puck turns his head and catches her eye. She blushes slightly and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smile just for her. Then it hits her. She knows how to forget.

Noah… who drives her to school and carries her lunch tray and enjoys comfortable silences and smiles from across the room at parties.

Emboldened, she grabs an abandoned shot of god-knows-what from the granite countertop and downs it, tossing her head back, relishing the burn of alcohol as it makes it's way down her throat. She likes the burn. The pain reminds her that she can be strong. With that in mind, she pushes back from the counter and starts making her way through the living room towards Noah.

x x x

She's not entirely sure how she convinced him to follow her upstairs, but he's a teenage boy with about five beers and three shots in him and she's in a ridiculously short skirt. They stumble together up the Lopez's spiral staircase, holding onto the iron banister and each other's arms for support.

After locating an empty bedroom, they collapse together on the king size bed, already exhausted from their difficult trek up the stairs.

When Puck opens his eyes a few minutes later, he finds Rachel's own deep brown pair inches away from his, staring so intently he swears she's boring into his soul. _Oh god, that's some cheesy shit, Puckerman. Man up. _

He makes a valiant effort, but the alcohol is making his brain a little fuzzy so really he can't be blamed for closing the gap between them and brushing his lips against hers. Her sharp intake of breath and quick jerk of her head back startle him for a moment, as does the deer in headlights expression on her face. However, before he can process what that might mean, she's leaned forward and captured his lips with hers.

As she swings her leg over his body to straddle his hips, he can taste the alcohol on her breath, feel his pounding heart working in time with their lips. It takes him a few moments to realize that's not his heart speeding up exponentially, it's hers. Rachel's heart is racing in her chest and he can feel it against his own. He pulls his head back for a moment.

"Hey, you ok?" Noah asks, his brow furrowed in concern. The caring expression on his face allows Rachel to calm her racing heart and lean back towards him. "Yeah. I'm fine," she breathes into him as their lips meet again.

She has to do this. If she can make it through this, if she can stand it… maybe she can forget. She starts to lean to the side, allowing Noah to roll her onto her back and hold himself up on top of her.

Her heart begins to race again. _His large forearms next to her head. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her short fingernails digging into the pliant skin of the backs of his hands, leaving perfect half-moons behind. The fuzzy static in her mind, keeping her from forming the word she so desperately needs to. No. No, no, no…_ "NO!" Her shout jolts her back to the present. To Noah's face above her, eyebrows drawn together in apprehension.

"Okay, we need to stop." His voice is gentle but firm, but doesn't do much to quell the storm welling up within Rachel's chest. It's too much. Before she knows what's happening, Puck is helping her sit up in bed, rubbing her back and telling her to breathe. She can't. Her entire body is shaking, head to toe, and each breath she sucks into her lungs is followed by another immediately after it's expelled. She's drowning and can't get enough oxygen. Choking on each inhale. Sobbing between her gasps for air.

Suddenly her hand is being pulled to Noah's chest and he's telling her to breathe with him. The terror rushing through her mind begins to calm as she focuses on him and his breathing. By the time her breaths and sobs are under control again, she collapses into his arms, still trembling uncontrollably, but too exhausted to hold herself up any longer.

He continues rubbing her back as she works to control her irregular breathing. By the time she falls asleep, her breath still hitches a little with each inhale and her exhales are shaky, conveying the toll the panic attack took on her body.

After he's laid with her long enough to be certain she's sleeping peacefully, Puck slowly slides off of the bed, careful not to disturb her, then pads his way to the hallway door. He's still drunk enough he has to reach a few times before he gets a hold of the handle, but he manages to twist it open and close the door quietly behind him.

His heart almost leaps from his chest, however, when he turns around to see none other than Santana Lopez leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed, tapping her foot, a single eyebrow raised in the air.

"Jesus, Lopez. The fuck are you doing out here?"

She looks at him incredulously, still a little tipsy, but wordlessly demanding an explanation for catching him closing the door on a passed-out Rachel Berry.

"Rachel passed out, she wasn't feeling so good." He notes the accusatory look on Santana's face and holds his hands up in front of him defensively. "We didn't do anything, Santana, Jesus. What do you think?"

She snorts derisively. "Seriously, Noah Puckerman walks out of a bedroom at a party and is trying to tell me he wasn't trying to get some?" She's buzzed enough still that she doesn't even begin to try to hold the skepticism and sarcasm out of her voice.

"Look, its Rach, come on. You know I wouldn't do anything to her. The second she started freaking out I stopped-" he cuts himself off before he can continue and he cringes a little bit at the wrath of Santana he's sure he's about to endure.

"The fuck?" Santana growls low in her throat. "Puckerman, I swear to God you'd better tell me what just happened or you won't have to worry about hooking up with anyone ever again."

"Fuck, Santana, okay. Look, we were just laying there and making out or whatever and it was all totally chill but all of a sudden she just yelled 'no' and had like a freaking panic attack. So I helped her calm down and shit and she fell asleep. That's it." He makes a noise of disgust when she still doesn't look convinced and he turns around to walk away. He stops short before he reaches the end of the hallway and turns back to Santana. "God, since when do you care, anyway? I've always been the one trying to look out for Rachel and you've been the one throwing slushies."

Before he can hear what Santana has to say, Puck turns around and thunders downstairs to the safety of the party, fists balled at his sides. He pushes angrily through everyone towards the front door, keeping his momentum all the way to the drivers' seat of his truck.

x x x

Santana, slightly stunned by Puck's accusatory tone and sudden departure, stands silently in the hallway for a moment before cracking the bedroom door open to peer in at Rachel. After making sure the small girl is still breathing, Santana begins to close the door before pausing. She steps into the room, grabbing the wastebasket from under the desk and placing it softly on the floor near Rachel's head. As she turns to leave, Santana catches a glimpse of the tear tracks on Rachel's cheeks, illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming in through the silk curtains of the guest room window.

Tomorrow morning. She'll deal with this tomorrow.

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><p><strong>I have a few more chapters written, and from now on I'll probably be updating every Sunday morning.<strong>

**If you have time, please leave a review and let me know what you thought, and maybe what you'd like to see in the future.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

CH3

_Rachel is more than prepared for Glee today. She's tweaked a Thoroughly Modern Millie duet so that it's perfect for her and she can't wait to perform it for everyone. Mr. Schue asks for volunteers. Anyone? Anyone? ME, she thinks, waving her hand in the air. Then she notices, there is a huge pane of thin glass stretching the length of the entire room, separating her from the rest of the Glee club. What is going on? Can't they see her? _

_Rachel cautiously taps on the glass, searching the faces of her teammates for a reaction. Nothing. She sighs and sits back in her chair. Her entire body tenses as she feels a hand on her shoulder._

"_I've missed you, Rachel," he breathes next to her ear._

_She can't bear to turn around and look at him. Even if she wanted to, she physically can't. Her entire body is unmoving, as if anchored to the chair; her heartbeat increasing, pounding steadily with the panicked warning in her head- . He increases his grip, digging the tips of his fingers behind the curve of her collarbone and she jerks away suddenly, jumping up and pounding on the glass. _

"_Noah! Please, Noah! Mercedes, Quinn, Mike, somebody!" She's quickly growing frantic, that one bruising touch sending her into overdrive. He walks up slowly behind her, whispering things that are intended to be soothing in her ear but they only send shivers down her spine and cause her to pound her fists harder against the glass. Nobody is looking. They're not paying attention. Why can't they see her? Why won't they listen? She needs help! _

_Finally, Noah gets up out of his seat. He walks down the steps but rather than turning left to save Rachel, he makes a right and leaves the room. He's followed almost immediately afterward by Finn, then Artie and Kurt and Mercedes and pretty soon the entire Glee club has left the room. Left her. Alone._

_Rachel begins sobbing and pounding on the glass with closed fists as his hand slides down her spine. Finally she feels the glass give as her fist shoots through, slicing her arm up to the elbow. She shrieks as her entire body pitches through the glass and flings her arms in front of her –_

Rachel shoots up in bed, panting. Her hands immediately go to her face, then her arms, checking for the slices and gashes she can still feel burning in pain and dripping blood. Upon finding only intact skin, she relaxes minutely and calms herself enough to reach for her water on her bedside table. When she can't find it, she locates the lamp and flicks the switch, flooding the room with light. The guest room. _Santana's _guest room. Rachel groans and buries her face in her hands.

x x x

Downstairs, Santana wakes up to a mass of blonde hair sticking to her face and warm breaths on her neck. She brushes away the tangles of hair and sees Brittany curled into her, head on her chest. Despite the slight haze clouding her memories of last night and the apparent disarray of the living room around her, Santana smiles and presses a kiss to the blonde's head. Brittany lets out a sleepy "mmpfhhh" and snuggles deeper into Santana.

She lays for a moment, basking in the glow of waking up with her girlfriend before noticing her surroundings. Her eyebrow arches as she takes in the beer cans and cups strewn all over the coffee tables and bookshelves in the room. Across the table from her and Brittany is Finn, facedown on the small loveseat, his long legs bent at the knee and sticking straight up in the air above him. Santana snickers to herself and wiggles her toes, looking at the extra couple feet of space at the end of the couch she and Brittany are sharing. She cocks her head and frowns for a moment. Why _are _they on the couch? And as hard as she tries to think, she still can't figure out why she and Brittany decided to fall asleep downstairs in the living room with all the boys rather than upstairs in her warm, comfortable bed.

As she replays last night in her head, she sobers instantly as she begins to remember clearly the details of the night once her inebriation had mostly worn off. She remembers noticing from across the room a drunk Rachel and Puck stumbling up the stairs together. She remembers following them, standing in the hallway talking to Puck, and she remembers the ball of anxiety gathering in the pit of her stomach at his recollection of the events that had just transpired. Bringing herself back to reality, she notices her every muscle is tight and her teeth are clenched together. God. She needs to talk to Rachel.

She gently extricates herself from the gorgeous sleeping blonde next to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and covering her with a throw from the back of the couch, tucking her in tightly on all sides – _"San, make me _s_nug as a bug in a rug!" Brittany always begs_ – then makes her way slowly and quietly up to the guest room.

Santana stands in the hallway in front of the guest room door for a moment trying to gather her thoughts. She wants to help Rachel, _but why? We've never been friends. _In fact, a cheerleader and glee club loser? They're natural enemies. And Santana's never spared the girl a second glance. What can she accomplish by trying to help her? Santana realizes she's been staring at the doorknob for almost five minutes now but she hasn't moved an inch. She huffs in frustration and annoyance, turns on her heel, and stalks angrily back down the stairs.

When she gets back down to the living room, she sees Brittany on the couch. Santana's only been gone a few minutes but in that short time the blonde has sprawled out with a leg thrown over the side and her arms flung haphazardly around, her blonde hair fanned out behind her on the throw pillow. Santana's heart aches. The amount of love she feels for the blonde in that moment brings back her worry for Rachel exponentially. _What if it were Britt? What if she needed somebody? She has me. Who does Rachel have?_

Her heart constricts at the thought of Rachel hurting and alone. _Nobody deserves that. Not even the hobbit. _She bites her lip and determinedly makes her way back up the stairs, this time not bothering to hesitate at the door. She pushes it open to find Rachel already awake, lying in the middle of the bed staring at the comforter.

"Hey Manh- Berry." Santana catches herself a little too late, but notices the lack of reaction from Rachel. She cringes internally, frustrated with her natural inclination to insult the girl as much as possible. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't like, dead or something. I mean, choking on your own vomit is kind of a disgusting way to die, but I wouldn't put it past you."

This time Santana actually cringes. _Shit, seriously, San? Get your shit together. _

"I mean… I talked to Puck last night and he said some shit went down. So I just wanted to check and make sure you're… y'know… okay, or whatever." She sighs at the lack of expression on Rachel's face, the girl's downcast eyes not giving anything away. Santana steps forward slowly.

Rachel feels the dip of the mattress as Santana sits gingerly on the bed next to her head. She keeps her gaze fixed inexorably on the scalloped edge of the comforter, determined not to let the other girl see her face. She doesn't think she can handle the Cheerio seeing her like this; hung over with her hair mussed and tear tracks from last night on her cheeks. After her experience with Quinn the day before coupled with the generosity of Brittany, Rachel is starting to have less of a feeling of impending doom when around the three cheerios but she hasn't entirely warmed up to them yet. And although the logical part of her mind is constantly reminding her to remain cautious around them, she can't help but want to let her guard down. She wants to talk to someone. _Has _to talk to someone. Maybe not now, but eventually.

After a moment or two of silence, Rachel thinks Santana must be waiting for her to look up before talking so she sneaks a glance up at the girl's face. To her surprise, Santana is staring off into the distance not waiting for her at all. Rachel relaxes a little bit. She's not sure what she was anticipating. A rant from Santana about staying over? A barrage of questions about the night before? Regardless, it's kind of nice to sit in silence because she doesn't really feel like being alone but she doesn't feel like talking just yet, either.

She's never felt so calm around Santana before. Then again, the fiery cheerleader is usually hurling insults and frozen corn syrup at her so she's never had a chance to just look at her. She notices the girl's eyes are thankfully devoid of pity and although she seems to be trying to keep them emotion-free entirely, Rachel can see the vestiges of compassion beginning to cloud Santana's features.

She feels a sudden ache in her chest at the girl's compassion and realizes all she wants is her mother. She wants someone to take care of her and wrap her in her arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. The thought startles her. She's always prided herself on being strong and not needing anyone, but after her encounter with Quinn in the bathroom the day before, so many feelings she's been suppressing for months have started to resurface. She hasn't noticed her eyes starting to burn and before she can stop it, a solitary tear makes its way down the curve of her cheek.

That lone tear nearly stops Santana's heart in her chest. She isn't entirely sure what happened to Rachel but she's pieced together enough from her conversation with Brittany and confrontation with Puck to know that it isn't good. She knows enough and all she wants to do is help the girl. It's absurd because just a day ago she was mentally mocking the antelope sweater and hideous knee socks and penny loafers she wore to school and now the only thought in her mind is making sure nobody ever hurts her again. Santana _knows_ the look on Rachel's face. She remembers days when she felt _exactly_ the way Rachel looks.

The sudden recollection of her own past makes up Santana's mind for her and she leans forward, wrapping her left arm around Rachel, pulling the girl's head to her shoulder with her right hand and laying her head on top of Rachel's. Rachel lets out a shaky breath as her lip begins to tremble.

"Shhhh," Santana soothes her, stroking Rachel's hair. "It's ok." She has no earthly idea where this sudden motherly instinct has come from, but the amount of fierce protectiveness that's been flooding her entire being since last night is starting to feel normal now. She can handle it. Rachel needs someone.

x x x

Quinn wakes up in her own bed, groggy from lack of sleep but thankfully not hung over. Ever since she was tricked into sleeping with Puck she's been very wary of alcohol and generally sticks to one or two drinks a night. It's worked pretty well so far. She rolls over onto her stomach, burying her head into the soft down pillow and shutting her eyes tight against the bright sunlight flooding her room. After a minute she realizes her attempt to return to dreamland is futile and she resigns herself to the waking world.

As she lies in bed staring at the ceiling, she tries to figure out what feels different. There's a slight fluttering in her stomach and a sense of anticipation flooding her mind. What is it? She tries to think. It's something new, but she doesn't have any recent exciting plans or anything to look forward to that she can think of. Racking her brain trying to figure out what she's anticipating, she catalogues her interactions from the day before. Insipid banter with the squad, a quick trip for slushies with Santana, trying to explain prepositions to Finn…

Then she thinks of Rachel and her stomach gives a small flutter in response. _Oh god. Rachel? _She closes her eyes and thinks of the tiny girl wrapped in her arms, warm tears soaking into the polyester of her cheerios uniform and her stomach flip flops again accompanied by an excited flutter from her heart.

Whoa. That's new.

x x x

"Thanks for bringing me home, Santana." Rachel smiles brightly, albeit artificially, in an attempt to return to her usually chipper personality. "I really wish you would have let me stay to help clean up after last night, I highly doubt many people will be offering you their assistance since they all managed to disappear already this morning."

"Don't worry about it, Berry. Britt and I can handle it." Santana smiles as she pulls into the Berrys' driveway. They sit in silence in the car for a few moments. She glances at Rachel who shifts nervously in her seat, staring at her hands in her lap.

"Thanks for um… earlier, too." Rachel mumbles quietly as she fidgets anxiously, face still downcast.

"Yeah, sure Berry. You know you can always, uh…" Santana clears her throat awkwardly. "I mean, you have my number, so…" She trails off and looks at the girl next to her. Rachel straightens in her seat and replaces the intensely thoughtful look on her face with a smile.

"Yes! Of course. Thank you for your hospitality, Santana. I will see you on Monday morning at school!" Rachel responds brightly, not wanting to stay any longer in the car and incite an uncomfortable conversation. She's mildly embarrassed at the fact that she's managed to break down in the presence of two cheerleaders in the last two days but as long as she tries not to think about it, it doesn't bother her too terribly. Once she's alone with her thoughts, however, all bets are off.

Rachel steps down from Santana's Range Rover and looks back as she retrieves her house key to start unlocking the deadbolt. Santana is idling in the driveway, wearing another oddly protective face as she waits for Rachel to get in safely before leaving. Rachel unlocks the door and gives Santana a small smile as she turns the handle.

Rachel opens the door to her house, stepping gingerly into the foyer. She's pretty sure her dads are home as it's relatively early on a Saturday morning and they usually don't go in to work until the afternoon. Sure enough, as she's tiptoeing past the living room archway aiming for the stairs, she hears her dad's voice.

"Rachel? Sweetie?" She cringes, her stomach dropping; she turns around, heading to the living room and leaning against the crown molding of the archway in an attempt to look nonchalant. Her father is sitting in his favorite wingback chair with a steaming mug of coffee on the end table next to him, the Wall Street Journal obscuring his face.

"Hi Dad!" Rachel forces herself to sound as casual and upbeat as possible, though her stomach is churning. Her father folds his paper down enough to reveal his face.

"Did you just get back from last night?" His face is unnervingly blank and Rachel can't decide if he's angry or disappointed.

"Um, yeah. I ended up staying over at S- a friend's last night and she drove me home this morning." She braces herself for the lecture sure to follow.

"Next time I'd appreciate if you would mention that in your note when you leave. Daddy and I missed you at breakfast this morning." He raises his eyebrow and brings the paper back up, losing himself again in the Weekend Edition.

Rachel, a little stunned by the lack of reaction from her father, takes a second to regroup before inquiring, "Where is Daddy?"

Her father's reply from behind the paper is muffled. "He had to work early."

Sensing the end of their short conversation, Rachel ducks back out of the living room and takes the stairs two at a time to her room.

The second she gets to her room she realizes why her stomach has been churning all morning and decides running up the stairs was a bad idea. She rushes to her bathroom and makes it on her knees in front of the porcelain bowl just in time. She's discovering that alcohol, anxiety, and stress are a terrible combination. Resting her head on her arm wrapped around the toilet bowl, she jumps at a dull buzzing from her pocket. She fishes out her phone to find a text from Noah.

_Hey Babs. Wanna grab coffee before school Monday?_

She smiles. She didn't even realize she was worried, but a small part in the back of her brain has been wondering if she scared Noah away with all of her crazy last night. She loves that there's no mention of last night and no question about whether or not she still wants to be picked up by him on Monday morning in his text. This is why they're friends.

_Yes, please! Pick me up at 7!_

It may be partially subconscious, but those extra exclamation points are her attempt at saying furtively I'm fine. She doesn't want him to worry. Last night he saw more than she ever intended to show and she's desperately hoping they can forget it ever happened. As protective as Noah is, she's pretty sure she's going to have to put on a convincing show to stop any questions or mentions of things she can't handle.

After a few minutes, Rachel is fairly certain she's not going to need to throw up again. She's feeling a lot better; her stomach has stopped flip-flopping and her headache is slowly beginning to fade. She picks herself slowly up off the bathroom floor, brushing off her tile-imprinted knees, flushing the toilet, and grabbing her phone.

x x x

She sits in silence at the end of her bed. Her mind quickly begins replaying the events of the day before and early that morning. She can't figure out how to stop thinking about how she felt wrapped in Quinn's arms or crying on Santana's shoulder. She can't stop replaying her dream from the night before or the events with Puck in Santana's guest bedroom. Eyes boring holes into the _Wicked_ playbill on her wall, Rachel converts all of her nervous energy into the annoying bounce of her leg. Up and down. Up and down.

Suddenly, she jumps up, darting to her closet. Five minutes later she's on her elliptical listening to Hits of the 80s, matching her strides to the beat of the obnoxious music. As unwanted thoughts creep into her head, she bumps up the resistance another level. Sweat begins to drip down her brow and she focuses on the strain on her body and the burning in her muscles rather than the pain and confusion in her heart. Her thoughts bounce to Puck. Level 5. _Santana and Quinn_, level 6. Rachel turns the music up a little louder to drown out her mind. _Jesse_, 7. _Jesse_. 8… 9… 10. Rachel's heart is pounding furiously and she concentrates on the little green number in the top left hand corner of the elliptical. 436 calories. 437 calories. Energy, energy, energy.

Suddenly her music fades out suddenly and a three tone 'ding' replaces it in her ears, alerting her to a new text message. She picks up her phone and her knees buckle underneath her.

_I've missed you. I just got back from a vacation to New York. Lunch tomorrow? - Jesse_

She drags herself off the elliptical and sits on her bedroom floor, leaning against the wall. He's texting her. He's _texting _her. Her heart feels as though it's about to jump up through her throat and leave her a lifeless puddle on the Berber carpet of her bedroom floor. Her phone falls from her hands to the floor and her head drops to her knees as she tries to calm her breaths. She doesn't know how to deal with this. She _can't _deal with this.

So much for trying to forget.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much for the reviews and feedback.<strong>

**If any of you want to come find me on Tumblr the link is in my profile.**

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter!**

**(and happy halloween!)**


	4. Chapter 4

Ch 4

**So I thought I would update a little early for you since I have a crazy weekend ahead of me and won't be able to post on Sunday. (****Also I'm in a good mood from the Brittana last night). **

**Thanks to all those who have helped me with this and to everyone who's read so far.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>As Rachel walks through the hallway to her locker before her first class, she can't help but think of all that's happened since she last walked into school on Friday morning. Sure, she was in a terrible mood that day but the amount of people who now seem to be worried about her has grown exponentially since then.<p>

She feels as though every person's eyes are on her, following her as she makes her way down the hall. She hears the noise level dull and whispers take the normally loud chatter's place as she passes groups of people congregating by their lockers. She shakes her head to clear it and the noise level returns to normal. _It's all in your head, Rachel. Stop being so paranoid. _She does however happen to miss the two people in the hallway who _are_ whispering as they follow her movement to her locker.

Brittany and Santana are huddled together at their side-by-side lockers tracking Rachel's progress down the hall. The two cheerios originally had lockers on opposite ends of the hallway, however Santana wouldn't accept anything that kept her unnecessarily far from her girlfriend. So, naturally, she threatened the little AV club nerd with a locker next to Brittany's to switch lockers with her. That had proved to be a very fruitful 'negotiation' as the proximity of the girls' lockers allowed for extensive PDA and, on occasion, quiet conversations like the one they're currently having about Rachel Berry.

As they reach a mutual decision, Brittany leans in to give Santana a quick peck before slamming her locker shut and bouncing away to meet Rachel. Santana smiles as she watches Brittany bound animatedly down the hall towards the shorter girl they've been making plans to watch over, her heart swelling with pride at how selfless and caring her girlfriend is.

x x x

Rachel is unloading her homework from her backpack and grabbing what she needs from her locker for her first period class when Brittany appears next to her.

"Hi Rachel!" The corners of Brittany's eyes crinkle as she flashes Rachel a huge smile while grabbing Rachel's backpack to help her.

"Good morning Brittany." Rachel replies, finding it incredibly easy to smile back at the bubbly blonde. They both have English together first period, so she's thankful for the cheerleader's willingness to walk to class with her. Rachel's not very used to Cheerios' acceptance of being seen with her. They usually treat her like a social leper, although Brittany has always been the nicest to her out of everyone. Rachel always had a sneaking suspicion that they might have been friends if it weren't for Santana's influence over the blonde, but after Saturday morning Rachel isn't even sure what to think of Santana anymore. As if on cue, Rachel feels a soft nudge to her side and turns around just in time to see Santana look over her shoulder and smile before joining Quinn and walking away down the hallway to class together. The corner of Rachel's mouth quirks up in a small smile. She doesn't want to postulate and be incorrect, but she thinks she just might have Santana in her corner.

The warning bell rings and Brittany closes Rachel's locker for her before grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hallway toward their class. They walk together in silence but Brittany never lets go of Rachel's hand, squeezing it tight as they weave through the crowds in the hallways and stairwells to make sure they don't lose each other. Just before they reach the door to their classroom, Rachel's phone vibrates. She retrieves it from her pocket with the hand not attached to Brittany's and flips it around to look at the screen. She can hear her heartbeat rushing in her ears along with the echo of loud voices in the hallway and Brittany calling her name. She yanks her hand back from Brittany and turns away, hurtling around corners and down hallways. There are suddenly too many voices and sounds and bodies and _people._ She runs toward the one place she knows she can be alone.

x x x

Santana and Quinn sit in the back row of their biology classroom. The two are lab partners and their combined death glares directed at their classmates ensure their seats in the back, which allow them to gossip and plan parties, world domination, and other things without their teacher Mrs. Carlson noticing. They aren't ten minutes into class when Santana's phone vibrates with a text from Brittany.

_S, Rachel ran away from me in the hall and she hasn't come to class yet. :( _

The smile fades from Santana's face. She jumps as she looks up from her phone and finds Quinn staring intently at her.

"Why is Brittany texting you about Rachel?" Quinn whispers, pretending to take notes but keeping her eyes locked with Santana's. She spent her entire weekend trying to keep Rachel out of her mind because for some reason every mention of the girl starts her body humming with excitement. It's unnerving. But now suddenly Brittany and Santana are texting each other about her? Her curiosity outweighs her desire to banish thoughts of Rachel from her mind.

"I don't know, they've been kind of hanging out lately, I guess." Santana mumbles back as her thumbs fly over the keypad on her screen, typing her reply to Brittany.

"Is something wrong? With Rachel, I mean?" Even though she's trying _not _to draw attention to the fact that she's suddenly interested in Rachel, she can't help her curiosity. Not to mention she's been especially worried about the girl since her breakdown in the bathroom on Friday and it's been all she can do not to check on her herself.

The incredulous look Santana gives her in response to her question reminds Quinn that she needs to work as hard as she can to remain stealthy. "Since when do you care about Berry, Q?"

Quinn recoils and decides it's probably best to stay out of this from now on. She doesn't want to give Santana any ammunition against her; their positions at the top of McKinley's social food chain are precarious. That is until she notices the flash of concern that crosses Santana's face as she checks her phone again. "I don't, I just… I mean, she hasn't really been herself lately." She asks it almost like a question, baiting Santana.

"Yeah? What have you seen?" Santana whispers, glancing up to the front of the classroom to make sure Mrs. Carlson is still oblivious to the conversation happening in the back row.

The serious tone of Santana's voice and the knowledge in her eyes tell Quinn all she needs to know. Santana knows something. She relays the events of her encounter with Rachel in the bathroom on Friday afternoon as quickly as she can, eager to find out what Santana is thinking.

When Quinn is finished, she notices Santana biting her lip, looking down at the table in thought. She looks like she's processing. What Quinn doesn't know is that Santana is figuring out exactly how much to divulge to her. Santana feels surprisingly protective of the girl after the events of the weekend and doesn't know how much she can trust Quinn with that information. Santana makes a decision: until she has a better grasp on what's going on with Rachel and until she knows exactly what Quinn's intentions are, she's keeping what she knows to herself.

"Oh. Yeah, I don't know what's going on. She's probably just upset about glee or something." Santana mutters as she returns to her phone, typing another text to Brittany.

Quinn's eyes narrow. She knows Santana is leaving something out. Something important. But as much as she wants to grill her until she can get some answers, doing so would give her away. As far as McKinley high is concerned, Quinn Fabray doesn't have feelings. And she's not about to do anything to change that impression. Admitting that she seems to have a soft spot for someone as low on the food chain as Rachel Berry is probably the worst thing she could do for her reputation.

Thinking of Rachel again sends another inadmissible tingle of anticipation through Quinn's body. She can't believe how much she finds herself caring about the midget. One thirty second encounter with the girl in a disgusting bathroom and suddenly she's the topic of most of Quinn's thoughts. She thinks a large portion of her protective feelings toward Rachel are probably stemming from her guilt at torturing the girl for the last couple of years. Now Quinn just wants to be close to her. Befriend her. Earn her trust.

_Jesus, Fabray. When did you start going soft?_

x x x

Rachel makes it to the choir room after breaking away from Brittany and sprinting through the halls as fast as she's able. Rather than slowing down, she begins pacing as soon as the door closes behind her. She looks at her phone again.

_What's wrong? Are you ignoring me? I want to see you… lunch today? -Jesse_

She matches the steps of her frantic pacing to the beats of her heart, turning sharp corners before retracing her steps. She hasn't deleted his text from yesterday yet, so her eyes dart between the two white bubbles on her iPhone. _I've missed you. Are you ignoring me? I want to see you. I've missed you. _Oh god. He can't be serious. What's wrong? What's _wrong? _After all these months with no contact she's received two texts from him in less than 24 hours. She thought she was handling things. She thought she was ok. But then her crazy mood happened last Friday for no reason and then the whole damn fiasco of her trying to use Noah to fix things… And now he's texting her. On top of everything else? She can't handle this.

"Why do you care so much? Why is it such a big deal? He doesn't even think anything is wrong." Rachel begins mumbling under her breath as she paces back and forth across the room. "Clearly you've been overreacting. What, does he not remember the last time we saw each other? Never mind the fact that nobody can touch you, J- _he _wants to have lunch. _Lunch. _God, Rachel. You can't even say his name and he expects you to be in the same room with him." Rachel's tone and speed build as she gets more and more agitated. Finally she shrieks and flings her phone across the room, throwing herself into a chair and fisting her hands in her hair.

She jumps at the sound of a voice in the room with her. "Rachel?"

x x x

Will Schuester has been in his office all morning. He got up and came to school early so that he could grade the juniors' Spanish tests while he had some peace and quiet in his office. He enjoyed a fairly silent morning, which is why he startled a little bit when Rachel Berry first burst through the choir room doors. He kept quiet because he really didn't want to get sucked into a conversation with the girl when he had so much work to do. But now, sitting at his desk, he can't help but realize that Rachel probably doesn't think anyone can hear her. He can hear her mumbling under her breath and he leans a little to the right to see her pacing back and forth, staring at her phone. When she yells and throws her phone at the wall he jumps in his seat and decides it's probably time to intervene.

He steps into the choir room, calling her name softly. When she startles and looks up at him, the look of absolute despair and confusion on her face stops him before he can ask her what's wrong. All the things he was going to say suddenly leave his head; the poor girl looks so conflicted he doesn't even know how to begin helping her. He suddenly feels terrible as he remembers the last few interactions he's had with Rachel. He's fairly certain they involved quite a bit of yelling on his part and he bites the inside of his cheek as he's flooded with shame. Seeing her here looking so broken and clearly distressed, he remembers that while she often acts like a bossy, controlling thirty year old, she's just a kid.

He sits down on a chair next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Hey Rachel…" he doesn't miss the way her back stiffens and she leans just a tiny bit away from him. He quickly removes his hand as he takes note of her reaction. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" He inquires gently, not wanting to scare the girl away.

"No, thank you Mr. Schuester. I was simply looking for a place to be alone for a few moments as I'm rather overwhelmed with school today." She turns her head towards him, looking very much like she's searching his face to see if he's bought her excuse. He hasn't.

"Rachel, it's barely first period. I understand if you find it a little difficult to talk… especially to me, but I'm here to help you. I care about you." He hopes he's adequately communicating his sincerity to her. His relationship with Rachel has always been a little rocky at best but she's just so _determined _and _abrasive _sometimes, he really can't help it.

At this she actually smiles mockingly. "Really, Mr. Schue? You care about me?" Her bitter laughter bites down to his core and he flinches a little. "Please enlighten me then as to the reasoning behind sitting back and watching while everyone in Glee club makes fun of me and puts me down every single day. In fact, you actually encourage them to rip my solos away from me. Glee club is _all I have._ Music, singing… it's _everything. _Nobody else cares nearly as much as I do yet you put _them_ all on a pedestal." Rachel pushes herself up out of her chair and whirls around to face Mr. Schue, gleaming tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"You preach all the time about us being a family and standing up for each other, but the one person you never stand up for is me. The only reason you're being nice to me right now is because you were here and you can't avoid it. Well, you know what Mr. Schue? I don't need your help." Rachel turns around and stomps away before he even has a chance to respond, leaving him staring, shocked, at the choir room door as it slams shut behind her.

The worst part about it is that she's right. The sinking feeling in his stomach only intensifies as he realizes that Rachel has noticed all along his unfavorable treatment of her. He always rationalized it to himself by thinking that Rachel would call him out on it if she ever noticed. He justified it by telling himself that she acted so grown up she should know better. But sitting here in the choir room looking into the girl's eyes he realizes what a mistake he's made. He's damaged his relationship with a student so much that in their time of need he can't even be of any assistance. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.

A sharp buzzing attracts his attention to the corner of the room. He notices Rachel's phone facedown on the floor, vibrating, and walks over to pick it up, telling himself he'll keep it in his desk and return it to her during Spanish class today. However, his curiosity gets the best of him and he flips it over, dragging his finger across the screen to unlock it and read her latest message.

_Fine. I don't know why you're not texting me back but I'm coming to McKinley for lunch today. I want to talk to you. -Jesse_

x x x

Surprisingly, blowing up at Mr. Schue was just the catharsis Rachel needed. Since storming out of the choir room she's realized she feels a lot calmer than she did all weekend. She's often imagined a big impassioned speech in which she would lament her treatment by the Glee club and following which Mr. Schuester would offer her all subsequent solos. It wasn't quite all she had imagined but she's fairly certain she got her point across; she's also thrilled to have something else to focus on. Rachel has always been fairly adept at compartmentalizing her feelings and keeping her emotions about certain events locked away in various parts of her mind, but when things build up like they did over the weekend she has a lot of trouble keeping her demons at bay. Being able to think about something like how _frustrated_ and _irritated _she is with Mr. Schue is a fantastic distraction.

Rachel suddenly halts her thoughts and stops dead in the middle of the hallway when she realizes where she's walking. _Goddamnit. _She's on her way to her first period class. Where Brittany is probably waiting for her. Waiting for her after she fled suddenly with no explanation before they even made it in the door. Rachel winces. Either she's getting much worse at holding her feelings and reactions inside, or certain people are getting more and more intuitive. Maybe it's a combination of the two, but either way she can't afford to arouse much more suspicion.

She sighs and begins walking again, trying to construct an elaborate excuse that will occupy the cheerleader. _I really, really had to pee. And it took me 30 minutes. Uh… no. _Rachel huffs in annoyance._ I… just remembered I forgot to… feed my… cat? No, Brittany will probably get excited and try to set up a playdate with Lord Tubbington. _She snorts. That would be an interesting one. Oh! _I realized I forgot my homework in my locker. _ She is fairly certain that Brittany has never actually done any homework… ever, so it won't seem odd to her that Rachel suddenly neglected to bring imaginary homework to class. _Bingo._

She reaches their classroom with a smile on her face, armed with arguably the lamest excuse ever constructed. As long as it keeps Brittany from the truth, she doesn't mind. She pushes open the classroom door, making eye contact and giving Brittany a small wave. Today is looking up.

x x x

Rachel makes it through the rest of the morning without any difficulty. Brittany seems to have anchored herself to Rachel's side, but she's finding she doesn't mind having the blonde follow her everywhere. Brittany's bubbly personality and almost constant chatter keep her from worrying about the dark corners of her mind that she's usually afraid of. Plus, she likes the company.

When they arrive to the lunchroom after their fifth period class Brittany pauses and glances around the room looking slightly conflicted. Rachel realizes the problem when she notices the girl looking back and forth between her and the cheerios' lunch table, biting her lip.

Rachel nudges her slightly with her arm. "You know Brittany, I'm grateful that you've been spending so much time with me today but you should go eat lunch with them," she tilts her head indicating the Cheerios' table. "Santana probably misses you."

Brittany's eyes light up as soon as she says Santana's name and Rachel feels simultaneously happy and envious. She's happy for Brittany and Santana finally getting together after watching them dance around each other for ages, but that feeling is always accompanied by a pang of jealousy. She's never had that. Someone with whom to share her secrets and her feelings and her time. Someone to always be there for her. Someone who will smile like _that _in reaction to hearing her name.

She's pulled back from her reverie as Brittany gives her a quick hug, apparently agreeing with Rachel's suggestion as she turns and runs to join Santana at their lunch table. Rachel wraps her arms around herself, suddenly self-conscious. She feels the spaces on either side of her widening and the eyes of everyone in the lunchroom turning to look at her. She misses her protective buffer. Why couldn't she be selfish and ask Brittany to stay?

Rachel steps backwards slowly until the backs of her knees hit the bench of a thankfully empty lunch table. She lets out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, crosses her legs demurely and looks quietly around the lunchroom pretending to be interested in the activity around her. She sees Brittany saving Santana and Quinn's places at the Cheerios' table while the girls get their food. She sees the other gleeks spread throughout the room at various tables, laughing and happy. Then it happens.

She sees him. He's silhouetted in the doorway; lit from behind by the sunlight reflecting off the blacktop of the parking lot. His eyes, probably adjusting to the dimmer fluorescent lighting of the lunchroom, scan the room slowly, searching. Searching for _her. _Her body reacts a solid five seconds behind her mind. Her brain is screaming at her to get up and run but she sits rooted to the chilled plastic of the lunch table bench beneath her. Her motor neurons suddenly catch up and she flings herself up onto her feet, stumbling a few steps before fast-walking towards the exit to the hallway. As much as her instincts are telling her to run, she knows she can't afford to draw any attention to herself.

But it's already too late. He's seen her. The walkway to the exit she's trying to reach will put her directly in his path. She stops abruptly. She can't handle talking to him. Even seeing him is sending her body into a frenzy. She spins around but before she can change directions Jesse is suddenly standing in front of her, grabbing her arm to keep her from running away. It's probably not intended to be threatening or intimidating but her mind is in overdrive, clouded by the smell of his aftershave and the feel of his hands' rough calluses on her skin again. Rachel can feel herself starting to panic. Not here. _Please, not here._

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a flash of red and white barreling towards them before Jesse's hand is quickly torn from her body.

"Yo! St. James! The fuck do you think you're doing?"

Santana's angry shout is the last thing Rachel hears before she collapses.

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><p><strong>Please take the time to review if you can. Even just a word or two. <strong>

**I like to know that people are out there reading this... it keeps me writing.**

**And come find me on Tumblr! Three3littlebirds.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews and favorites. They keep me going! **

**Well, this is the longest chapter yet. ****I had a really difficult time writing this. It just wasn't flowing like I wanted it to and it took me a really long time, but I finally finished. I hope you guys like it!**

**Thanks once again to my two favorite people for helping me out (with this chapter especially). You know who you are.**

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><p>Quinn is in the lunch line with Santana having runny mashed potatoes scooped onto her tray when she sees him out of the corner of her eye. Jesse. Is he here for Rachel? <em>Of course he is, Quinn. <em>He and Rachel used to spend a lot of time together at the beginning of the school year since he decided to stay in town and do community theater rather than go to college, but as far as she knew they were never dating. And he hasn't been around in months. Are they dating now? Why else would he be coming to see her in the middle of the day? Quinn is unprepared for the stab of jealousy she feels in her stomach. _Why the hell do I care who Manhands dates?_

"Q!" Santana's hiss brings her back to the present and she looks to the section of the lunchroom the Latina seems focused on. She sees Rachel, immobile in the middle of one of the aisles between lunch tables, wide eyes locked in on Jesse, a look of intense fear blanketing her face. The girls watch as she turns sharply and tries to escape before Jesse catches her arm.

The panic reflected in Rachel's eyes as she looks up at Jesse immediately galvanizes Santana into action. She's had an uneasy feeling about Rachel all weekend as she thought again and again about what Puck told her. Seeing the look on Rachel's face at Jesse's touch makes her suddenly furious and she sprints towards them, vision clouded with red.

Quinn is startled for a moment, unsure of what Santana thinks she's doing and unable to figure out what is happening between Jesse and Rachel, but she composes herself and runs after Santana.

"Yo! St. James! The fuck do you think you're doing?" Santana beats Quinn to the pair and yanks Jesse off of Rachel, letting loose with a few obscenities in Spanish. Quinn's attention isn't on Jesse and Santana for long, though, because just a moment after his hand leaves Rachel's body Quinn watches as her knees buckle and she collapses to the ground.

Quinn reaches Rachel just in time to cradle her head and keep it from hitting the hard linoleum flooring of the lunchroom. This is the second time in less than a week that she's been privy to the girl's vulnerability, and just like last time it's chipping away at her hard exterior. As much as Quinn tries not to care about people, _especially _Rachel Berry-type people, something about the girl has triggered something inside of her and all she can think about is spending more time with her and keeping her safe, if necessary.

Her thoughts trail off as she feels Rachel's head shift against her hand. Quinn has only been there for a moment but Rachel's eyes are already opening and she's attempting to push Quinn away.

"I'm fine. It's okay, I'm fine." Rachel insists, pressing up off the floor trying to stand up. Quinn wraps an arm around her waist to help her, noticing her flinch slightly at the touch. Quinn chooses to ignore it and keeps her arm gently curled just above Rachel's hip, guiding her off the floor. Rachel keeps her eyes trained on the floor, clearly trying to avoid looking at or hearing the confrontation between Jesse and Santana, which has escalated to a Spanglish shouting match. Jesse looks thoroughly confused.

"-cosas malas!" The end of one of Santana's shrieks carries through the lunchroom, turning some of their classmates' heads toward the confrontation.

"Rach… lets get you out of here." Quinn's only instinct right now is to get Rachel away from Jesse and the stares of the other students in the lunchroom. The color has drained from the girl's face, whether from fear or from her collapse Quinn isn't sure. She manages to wrangle Rachel out the door into the hallway, although she is stumbling and hardly able to stand on her own.

Somehow the pair manage to make it to the girls' locker room. It's deserted and will probably remain so for the next three or four hours so Quinn is satisfied that it will afford them the privacy they need. Rachel's short sharp breaths don't sound like she's getting the air she needs and Quinn is fairly certain the girl is hyperventilating. She presses Rachel down onto a bench, straddling it herself and leaning towards Rachel. She slides her hand from Rachel's waist to her back, rubbing in soothing circles and waiting as Rachel's sob-laced gasps progress into hiccups, then slower shaky breaths. Meanwhile, Quinn's thoughts are racing as she tries to figure out what's going on. She's furious that Santana won't tell her what she knows and even more angry now that she knows it seems to involve Jesse somehow.

Quinn is about to ask Rachel what the hell is going on when she feels and hears the girl's stomach growl loudly.

"Have you eaten?" Quinn realizes they were only a few minutes into their lunch period before everything happened and Rachel is probably starving.

"No, not yet." Rachel admits, her stomach growling again in agreement. Despite the heavy moment, Quinn smirks and a short laugh escapes Rachel's lips.

"No wonder you collapsed." Quinn can see the relief on Rachel's face as she realizes she might not be in for an uncomfortable interrogation if Quinn is brushing off her collapse as being from hunger. "We'll find you something to eat."

Quinn pulls her hand from Rachel's back to grab her phone and immediately misses the warmth. _Get it together, Fabray. _She quickly sends Santana a text asking her to bring some food to the locker room as soon as she's done castrating Jesse. After pressing send she decides to indulge herself and reaches out to grab Rachel's hand. Rachel turns her head to look at Quinn, her face a mixture of guarded appreciation and slight confusion, Quinn reciprocates with an accidental look of affection mixed with adoration. Shit. She can't help it. Rachel is warm and sniffling and actually kind of _cute _and her hand is so tiny and she is so tiny and Quinn just wants to fold her up and keep her forever. _Forever? _Where the hell is this coming from? She quickly corrects her face, replacing the look with one of indifference, but not daring to remove her hand. Not yet.

The two girls sit comfortably in silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle or cough from Rachel. As much as she's dying to figure out what is going on with Rachel and how it involves Jesse, Quinn doesn't want to upset the girl any more so she holds her tongue. Quinn relishes the feel of Rachel's small warm hand nestled in hers. She wants to do everything she can to prove to Rachel that she'll be there for her. That's she's past the name-calling and the slushies and the constant suffering she's inflicted on the girl in the past.

But how can she explain and prove that to Rachel when she can't even understand it herself? Why _does_ she suddenly want to be friends with the girl she's spent her entire high school career plotting ways to humiliate and torment? Why does she have a constant urge to hug Rachel and tell her everything is going to be okay?

Before Quinn can begin to brood over the deluge of questions forming in her mind, the locker room door slams against the wall as it's flung open and the loud noise startles Quinn into wrenching her hand from Rachel's. Santana breezes through the open door with a smug smile plastered on her face, oblivious to the moment the girls before her had been sharing and the slightly hurt look on Rachel's face.

Flustered and determined not to let Santana see, Quinn stumbles over words in her head before asking Santana what happened. "Why do you have that look on your face?" She pauses for a moment before she dares to ask; "What happened to Jesse?" Quinn doesn't notice Rachel stiffen slightly next to her at the mention of his name.

Santana smirks. "I don't think we'll be seeing him again any time soon. He limped out of the lunchroom before Principal Figgins and Coach got there. He may or may not have been crying."

Quinn's eyes widen at the implication of Santana's words. "Santana! If they caught you fighting again they said they'd suspend you! How mad was Coach Sylvester?"

"It wasn't a fight! I just kicked him. Once." She toes the ground for a moment before looking up at Quinn and smiling. "But I made it count."

Rachel is up on her feet and heading toward the door before either of the two cheerios can stop her. "Whoa, Berry!" Santana grabs Rachel's wrist to halt her exit but quickly lets go when the girl flinches and whimpers. "Stay here for a while. At least wait until people aren't walking around the halls anymore." Santana intones, tilting her head trying to catch Rachel's eye.

"Please, Rachel? Stay here and… talk to us." Quinn stops herself from begging further when Santana shoots her a curious look. She doesn't want to arouse suspicion but she's doing a terrible job of being stealthy.

Rachel shakes her head and backs slowly away from the girls. "No… I'm- Thank you, for all of your help but… I- I'm fine. I don't need to talk. I can handle this on my own."

Quinn snatches the brown paper sack from Santana's hand and stretches it out to Rachel. "At least take your lunch with you!" She blurts, wishing desperately that Rachel would stay. She wants to understand what's going on and she _really _doesn't want to be left alone with Santana after her behavior around Rachel.

Rachel takes the sack from Quinn's outstretched hand. "Thanks… I have to go." She turns quickly and fast walks toward the locker room door, feeling the brown paper of the lunch sack crinkle under her palm as she tightens her fingers around it, trying to keep her composure as she escapes to the hallway.

x x x

Santana watches Rachel leave the locker room without moving a muscle. She doesn't know how she feels. She can't put names to the emotions rolling through her and everything has happened so quickly today that she hasn't had time to process. From the moment she saw Jesse grab Rachel's arm in the cafeteria and registered the look of panic on the small girl's face, something has been building inside of her. Releasing her pent up anger on Jesse was beyond satisfying, and if she's being honest with herself she could admit that some of that anger had been building for almost three years now. She hates stupid horny high school boys.

She clenches her jaw. She can't afford to think about that right now. Santana turns to Quinn who is still looking forlornly at the door through which Rachel disappeared. "What's with the face, Blondie?"

Quinn's face immediately snaps into an unreadable mask. "What are you talking about, S?" She folds her arms, not breaking her fellow cheerleader's stare.

"Just wondering why you're suddenly so interested in Berry, that's all." Santana mentally congratulates herself for referring to Rachel in a neutral, un-insulting way. _Yay, me._

"I'm not. I just don't want her losing the next glee competition for us just because she's not feeling up to par." The ease with which the lie leaves her lips makes Quinn feel a little uneasy. Not too long ago that would have been her answer… and she would have meant it. Once again she's ashamed at her prior treatment of Rachel. She can't believe how easily she used to put the girl down and treat her like she was less than nothing.

Santana looks slightly unconvinced so Quinn continues; "What? You know as well as I do we don't stand a chance at regionals unless Rachel is in full-on Barbra mode. I'm just making sure that happens."

Quinn walks away and out the door before she can see Santana's face, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows she was convincing. She's never had a problem putting on a face for Santana; Quinn has had years of practice keeping the other girl out of her head. Yes, they're friends, but their places at the top of the social pyramid are precarious and not meant to be shared… so one false move from either could jeopardize their entire reputation at McKinley. Quinn isn't willing to let her desire to be friends with Rachel get in the way of her climb to the top of the school. Sure, she may be exhibiting a little bit of vulnerability when it comes to Rachel and yes, her awkward side always manages to come out in full force when she's around the girl… but as long as she can keep that from Santana she'll be fine. Everything will be fine.

x x x

After escaping from the locker room, Rachel bolted to the only place she feels safe. She sits in the dark back row of the auditorium, her body folded as small as she can make herself, nestled in the small corner between the last row of seats and the side wall. The silence in the room is deafening and Rachel can almost physically feel it pressing down on her chest, making the sound of her every breath fill the room. She feels like she should be crying or screaming or doing _something _but instead she just sits there. It's almost too much. She feels full with no outlet.

She starts singing softly, in a quiet, unpretentious voice no one would ever associate with Rachel Berry.

"_Childhood living_

_is easy to do _

_the things you wanted_

_I bought them for you"_

She bites her lip and fights to keep her face from crumpling. It's not working. Singing has always worked. She needs to keep her thoughts away from the dark corner of her mind they're creeping towards. Maybe if she sings louder.

"_Graceless lady_

_you know who I am_

_you know I can't let you_

_slide through my hands"_

Before she can begin the chorus, Rachel registers a soft humming coming from around the corner of the wall she's pressed against. She picks her head up from where it's resting on her knees and peeks around the corner. She's met with blonde hair and blue eyes surprisingly close to her face.

"Aahh!" Rachel shrieks. She'd thought for a moment or two that the humming was all in her imagination. She didn't expect to actually _see _someone when she looked around the corner. "Brittany, you scared me. How long have you been sitting there?"

"Oh… sorry. I followed you in but you didn't look like you wanted to talk so I just sat here." Brittany shrugs her shoulders. "But then you started singing and I like that song because it's about horses so I wanted to sing with you but I don't really know that many of the words."

Rachel smiles. As is usually the case when she's around Brittany, she can feel herself starting to relax already. The girl's unassuming presence is reassuring. Brittany crawls out from around the corner, reaching across Rachel's body to grab the brown lunch sack from beside her. She sits cross-legged on the floor facing Rachel.

"Is this San's lunch?" Brittany asks as she dumps the contents of the bag on the floor of the aisle. "It is!" She squeals gleefully. "She always packs Gushers to share with me." Brittany rips open the packet and hands Rachel a small red hexagon.

"What on earth is this?" Rachel asks, turning the squishy candy over in her palm.

"Rachel! They're Fruit Gushers!" Brittany explains as if it's the most obvious concept in the world. "Look, just try one. Just bite into it!"

Rachel pops it into her mouth and bites down, making a face as the gelatinous candy bursts in her mouth. Brittany bounces up and down clapping her hands excitedly. "See? They gush!"

"Yes… they certainly do." Rachel waits until Brittany is looking down before making a face and swallowing. She doesn't find squishy things bursting in her mouth to be all that appealing, and certainly not as thrilling as Brittany seems to.

"Back in elementary school when San and I first met, our moms would pack us gushers every day." Brittany smiles and stares just over Rachel's left shoulder at the grooved paneling of the auditorium wall, reminiscing. "One day when my mom forgot to pack me some, San shared hers with me. Now we always just share. It's more fun that way." She pops another Gusher into her mouth and grins widely at Rachel, offering her the bag.

"No thank you, Brittany." Rachel refuses politely, but Brittany looks so heartbroken that she quickly plucks another snack from the bag. The dejected look on the blonde's face is quickly replaced with her same warm smile and sparkling eyes. Rachel pops the Gusher into her mouth, quickly swallowing it whole, trying desperately not to grimace. "So you and Santana have known each other since you were young?" She asks, curious about the girls' history.

"Oh yeah." Brittany replies, eyes lighting up again at the thought of Santana. "We met in first grade. San's always been my best friend. She always will be."

Rachel smiles and leans back against the wall. Listening to Brittany talk about growing up with Santana is comforting. She remembers what it was like to be a child. Imagining Santana as a little girl linking pinkies with Brittany and sharing lunches on the playground makes Rachel a little less apprehensive about the consequences of opening up to the girl. Suddenly, in the last dark row of the McKinley high auditorium, sitting on the floor listening to Brittany recount stories of her childhood, Rachel feels safe for the first time in months.

x x x

"Okay you guys, I've decided we're going to have some changes around here!" Mr. Schuester claps his hands together as he enters the choir room and points toward the group of confused high schoolers sitting across from him. Rachel looks on in interest from her seat in the back row between Brittany and Puck. She spent most of the day hiding out in the auditorium but decided she needed to show up for glee. She mustered up all of the courage and energy she had left and walked into the choir room with an award-winning smile that has clearly bewildered a skeptical Santana and Quinn. She needs to prove to them that she's okay.

"I've heard a lot of complaints from you guys about fairness over the last couple of years and I've decided on a new system." The room is filled with whispers and everyone, especially Mercedes and Kurt, are now intently listening to what Mr. Schue has to say.

"From now on, all solos for competitions will be decided by auditions. Anyone who wants a solo is welcome to try out." Mr. Schuester crosses his arms and surveys his students' faces. Suddenly Rachel's smile feels a little bit less fake. _He listened_.

"Wait a minute, what's to say you aren't just going to pick people to win the auditions the way you have been?" Mercedes asks, clearly cautious about the new plan and protective of her possible future solos.

"Aha. I thought you would say that. So I put together a panel of judges who will rank everyone's auditions and choose the people who will receive solos for competitions. I won't be involved in the process whatsoever." Mr. Schue glances around the room to gauge his students' reactions.

Mercedes and Kurt have wide smiles on their faces. Santana and Quinn don't seem to be paying much attention. Their heads are bent together and they're whispering quietly. Artie appears to be brainstorming something with Puck, and Brittany is bouncing up and down in her seat clapping excitedly. _And Rachel? _His eyes sweep the group one more time before catching her in the back row, a smile on her face. He's relieved. He should have done this a long time ago but it took one of his students falling apart before and because of him before he realized the error of his ways.

Rachel catches Mr. Schue's eye and nods her head in acknowledgement. While she isn't ready to forgive him entirely, she's thankful that he listened to her. Maybe she'll have to work harder for her solos now and yes, maybe she won't have as many… but at least she won't walk to glee every day with a knot of anxiety balling in her stomach, preparing for a war. Ready to fight for her solos. Ready for people to yell at her and belittle her for battling for what nobody else will help her obtain.

She crosses her arms over her chest and suddenly fights back the urge to cry. _Why are people listening to me now? Why didn't they listen before?_ She's tired of people realizing they've treated her poorly in the past and trying to make up for it now. That seems to be the theme of her week. She struggles in vain to keep her face neutral. She can't afford Santana and Quinn, or anyone else for that matter, seeing her like this. Thankfully to her left Puck is idly chatting with someone and to her right Brittany is rocking back and forth singing at the top of her lungs. Rachel has never been so glad for Mr. Schue losing control of his students. She takes four deep breaths in and out and manages to compose herself. She's always been good at hiding her true emotions... Sure she gets overemotional sometimes but that's only when she can get something out of it. She's terrified of revealing her true emotions; of giving other people that power over her. She hasn't been handling it well, but she's just been overwhelmed lately. _You're ok, Rachel. Calm down. You're fine. _ She repeats the words to herself in her head over and over until she believes them.

By the time Mr. Schue regains control of the room and begins the lesson and assignment for the day, her fake smile has returned to her face, even bigger than before. She keeps her teeth showing and cheeks aching for the next hour, all through Glee. The continuing looks of confusion on Quinn and Santana's faces fuel her sense of accomplishment. They noticed. She's fine.

x x x

The sound of the doorbell echoing through the foyer of her empty house rouses Rachel from her half-slumber. It takes her a moment to realize she's fallen asleep in the living room since getting home from school, curled up in her daddy's chair. She groans into her knees. "Go away."

For a moment she thinks that the person at the door has done just that, but just as she's smiling at the idea of not having to get up, the doorbell suddenly starts ringing through the house. Over and over and over again. Rachel groans and hoists herself up out of the chair, padding towards the foyer. Her disorientation keeps her from looking out the sidelights to see who's on the doorstep before opening the door to none other than Santana Lopez. She really wishes she'd checked first.

"Hi, Santana. What can I help you with?" Rachel's ultra polite and chipper mask is back on and she can tell she's startled Santana with it.

"You left this at my house on Friday." Santana pulls her hand from behind her back, brandishing a hideous orange sweater that is clearly three or four times the size of Rachel.

"That's not mine."

"Whatever. Let me in." Santana steps toward Rachel who has no choice but to let the girl past her into the foyer.

"So this is casa Berry, huh?" Santana strolls in, craning her neck to admire the glass chandelier in the entranceway. "I've never seen it sober. Not bad for a hobbit family." She crosses to the living room and tosses the orange sweater onto the couch, unceremoniously plopping herself into an armchair.

Rachel stands at the threshold of the living room, twisting her hands in front of her. "Ummm, Santana… While I appreciate your visit, I have a fair amount of homework to attend to so if you wouldn't mind expediting this…" She's trying to sound convincing but given that she's seen Santana three times now today and exhibited polar opposite moods, it's fairly obvious that she's trying to avoid a confrontation.

"What, Berry, you're not going to offer me something to drink? Welcome me into your home?" Santana bounces her foot nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I've forgotten my manners entirely. Would you like something to drink, Santana?"

"No thanks, I'm good." Santana smirks as Rachel sighs. She's perfectly comfortable waiting as long as it takes for Rachel to break down and start talking.

Rachel huffs in annoyance and sits down on the couch opposite Santana, mirroring the other girl's body language, as uncharacteristic of her as it may be. Her legs crossed and foot bouncing slowly in time with Santana's, she braces herself for the inevitable.

"So…" Santana breaks the silence. "You want to tell me why I beat Jesse up today?"

Rachel tenses.

"_Hey, are your dads gone again?" Jesse asks as they pull into the Berrys' driveway. Rachel's car is in the shop having the transmission repaired and Jesse has been driving down from Carmel in the mornings and afternoons to shuttle her to and from school. She's grateful to have a friend as invested in show business as she is. Actually, she's just grateful to have a friend._

"_Yeah they were both on call today and got paged in. Daddy texted me to tell me they're just going to stay at the hospital tonight." Rachel says, stepping down from Jesse's Range Rover and inhaling the cool fall air. _

"_Well, how about I stay over and keep you company tonight? I'll make us my famous hot chocolate and we can stay in and watch Funny Girl." _

_Rachel smiles as she unlocks the door to her house, letting Jesse in behind her. "That sounds perfect!"_

"Rachel? Rachel!" Rachel is brought back from her memory by Santana's hand waving in front of her face. She blinks stupidly.

"Okay, seriously? We need to have a conversation about this." She gestures with her hand at Rachel.

"Santana what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Jesse." Santana notes the visible tensing of Rachel's shoulders. "That. That's what I'm talking about. You can't even hear his name."

"I don't want to talk about this. I can't talk about this." Rachel crosses and uncrosses her legs. Her body is preparing to bolt. But where can she go? _I never should have let her in._

"You can. And you need to."

"What would you know about what I need?" Rachel's indignant tone conveys a false sense of bravado that she's really not feeling.

"Believe me, Berry. I know." Santana fixes her in an intense stare.

"You don't know anything about me, Santana. Stop pretending like you care. God, I can't handle this! I don't know what to think. You- all of you! Why do you think you need to help me? I was fine before you all started meddling!" Rachel hates herself. Less than a week ago she was fine. She was dealing on her own. The amount of anxiety she feels at having other people know something is wrong is _stifling._ She wants to run away but she can't. She doesn't know how.

Santana takes a few deep, calming breaths. _How can I convince her it's okay that I know? How can I make her see... _

"I care because you're a person, Berry. You deserve to have someone to talk to. Stop worrying about what people know and take advantage of the fact that you have people willing to help you shoulder this." She stands up and crosses the room, standing at the arm of the couch next to Rachel. She can tell the girl is uncomfortable with the situation and Santana doesn't want to push her much further. She knows it's been a trying day so she makes the decision to let Rachel be.

Santana doesn't really know what to do regarding the girl. She's waiting to have an epiphany or something, but until then her plan is to keep her close. To watch her. She's stopped worrying about the social repercussions of befriending the girl ever since she realized that Rachel doesn't actually have any real friends.

"Next week during spring break you're coming over to my place. Tuesday. Noon. Glee party."

Rachel is caught off guard for a moment. She didn't expect Santana to stop questioning her. She's so startled that she doesn't object to the fact that Santana has just demanded her presence at her house over next week's break. She looks up at Santana, mouth agape as the cheerleader flounces into the foyer, opening the front door and turning around one last time before leaving the house.

"You'd better get used to me, Berry. You're stuck with me now."

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading.<strong>

**Please leave a review! I'd really like to know what people thought.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

******Hey guys. Sorry this took me so long... I had a serious case of writers block and I've also been incredibly busy. Since posting the last chapter I've worked on two films, planned and done most of the work for two group project finals, volunteered at a huge film festival in Hollywood, worked the tunnel of oppression at my school, and traveled between my parents' house and school like three times. All in two weeks. I've been really really busy. **

**But now I have a little free time until finals and I'll try to get as much written as I can before then! If you'd like to keep up with my progression on the story and see what creative excuses I come up with for not writing, come find me on tumblr: three3littlebirds (the link is in my profile)**

**Now without further ado, here is chapter 6!**

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><p>Sparkles. Gold sparkles. Rachel stares just past her shoes and the bright gold sparkles on her flats morph into fuzzy circles dancing in the light. She shivers in the cold wintry air and lets her eyes refocus, bringing her head up and moving her gaze from her feet on Santana's doorstep to the Lopez's front door. She takes a deep breath, wrapping her fingers tighter around the black leather strap of her purse, contemplating the glowing doorbell to her right. Just as she's about to reach out and ring the doorbell, an arm reaches around her and a long slender finger extends to press the glowing button. She huffs.<p>

"I was going to ring it, you know." Rachel turns around to find that the owner of the impatient finger is none other than Quinn Fabray.

"Sure you were." Quinn smirks.

Rachel inhales a sharp breath with a rather witty comeback prepared on the tip of her tongue, but right at that moment Santana flings the front door open. The wall of warmth from inside the house reminds Quinn and Rachel of how cold it is outside. In their haste to get inside and get warm, they miss Santana's eyebrow quirked curiously at finding the two girls apparently arriving together.

x x x

Quinn was surprised to find Rachel Berry on Santana's front doorstep. Yes, Santana pitched this as a Glee party but they usually try to exclude Rachel from those. She feels that all-too-familiar feeling of her stomach twisting guiltily. God, they've been terrible to her. They've always been Rachel's only 'friends' but in the past they've done everything they can to not include her. Quinn sneaks a glance to her right and watches Rachel as she hands her red wool peacoat to Brittany to hang in the Lopez's coat closet. Rachel's eyes are bright and she has a glowing smile curving the corners of her mouth. _How can she be so happy around us still, after everything we've done? _Quinn wonders, but then realizes. _She just wants friends. God. She's so desperate for people to be around that she's willing to hang out with people who treat her like she's nobody. _Quinn wants desperately now to show Rachel that she is somebody. That she means something. To glee club, to Lima, to the world, to Quinn…

She digs her fingernails into her palms to stop her thoughts._ Jesus, Fabray. What the fuck? Stop thinking about her. You. Don't. Care._ While the dialogue in her mind says one thing, the feelings inside of her convey the opposite. She cares. God, does she care. She's starting to think the voice in her mind is just an annoying habit. She doesn't even believe it anymore.

She doesn't realize it but she's waiting for Rachel before she walks into the living room to join the rest of the club. Rachel is sure to receive a warm welcome if she comes in at the same time as Quinn.

"Hey guys!" Sure enough, Mercedes, Tina, Kurt, and Mike wave and greet the two girls as Rachel and Quinn cross into the living room.

Rachel glances around the room for a place to sit, and ends up perched on the arm of the loveseat occupied by Kurt and Tina. There are a few open beers around and a bottle of vodka on the table but for the most part everyone appears to be just sitting and talking and she falls easily into their conversation. For the first time in a while she feels warm and happy. Included.

Quinn notices the small smile on Rachel's face. The girl looks like she's genuinely enjoying herself. Quinn is trying not to embarrass herself but she keeps asking Rachel questions and talking to her quite a bit more than she does everyone else in the room. She tries to balance it out, but every time Rachel says her name or responds to a question she's asked Quinn can feel a blush rising up on her face. Her cheeks remain tinged pink and before anyone can remark on her pallor she comments on the temperature in the room, fanning herself delicately with her hand.

The conversation has turned to everyone's plans for the rest of spring break. Quinn really doesn't care. Rachel is remaining silent but Quinn really wants to know. She's curious to know if she'll be running into Rachel during the rest of the week. She didn't realize it but she's used to seeing Rachel every day; even the weekends away from school seem too long to go without seeing her. Quinn hopes Rachel will be around this week. _What, Q, are you going to invite her to get coffee? Oh yes. She won't think that's weird or anything._

"Rachel, what are you going to do this week?" Whoops. The words just fell out of her mouth. She was thinking them but she didn't intend to actually _say_ them. Oh well. Too late.

"Oh, well… my dads are out of town so I have the house to myself! I'll probably just relax and watch movies this week; maybe practice my piece for my regionals audition." Rachel recites her previously rehearsed her answer. She doesn't want to sound pathetic. Sure it will be a little lonely, but _they _don't need to know that. Nobody really seems to react, though, which she takes as a good sign. Santana looks deep in thought, Kurt is already talking about his audition piece, and Quinn is chewing her lip thoughtfully. _Ooookay…_

Quinn mentally reminds herself not to invite Rachel to do anything. She doesn't have the greatest self control so she's not sure how much good it will do, but she's willing to take the extra precaution. She can't just start hanging out with _Rachel Berry_. She needs a reason, or something. Like this party. Except she's pretty sure she's making a fool of herself. The word _awkward _was not one Quinn would ever have used to describe herself, but it's quickly becoming the best description of her behavior around Rachel. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Santana leap up from the couch. Fuck, Santana probably thinks she's gone insane. It's time to shut up. Quinn bites her lip and places her chin in her hands, resolute in her decision not to open her mouth again tonight.

x x x

Santana jumps up from the couch and excuses herself from the living room. She wanders from the hallway to the kitchen, unsure of where she's going or exactly why. Something Rachel said is making her think. She traces her hand along the granite countertop, watching her deep purple fingernails shine in the soft recessed lighting. She catches a glimpse of the smooth tan skin of her wrist and turns the corner towards the foyer quickly, almost running into Brittany.

"Hey San! I-" Brittany starts before Santana's soft hand on her shoulder cuts her off. Santana presses her girlfriend slightly to the side in order to scoot by her before walking briskly towards the staircase.

"Hang on, B." Santana sprints up the stairs two at a time. She has an idea… and needs to make a call.

xxx

Rachel's hand tightens on the brass handle of the powder room door as she twists it open. The noise of the party is getting to her a little; Mercedes and Tina have the loudest laughs _(cackles, really) _she's ever heard and her head is starting to pound. Rachel startles immediately as she notices another body in the powder room, perched on the sink. Brittany lifts her head and meets Rachel's eyes before ducking her head back down again. Her lower lip sticks out the tiniest bit above her quivering chin and her eyebrows are drawn together in sadness.

"Brittany? What's wrong?" Her shock at finding someone else in the bathroom is outweighed by the confusion brought on by the unfamiliar experience of seeing Brittany Pierce looking anything but bright and happy.

"I think San is mad at me." Brittany chokes out and a lone tear squeezes from her eye and snakes down her face, dripping from her chin to her lap and soaking into the dark denim of her jeans.

"What? Why do you think she's mad at you?" Rachel places a hand comfortingly on the blonde's shoulder.

"She b-blew me off. I tried to talk to her but she pushed past me." Brittany responds dejectedly, a broken sob cutting through her sentence. She rests her head on Rachel's outstretched arm. "I don't know what I did."

Rachel realizes that she hasn't seen much of Santana all night, despite the fact that this is her party. She's certain there's a reason, though. Santana and Brittany are so clearly in love. She is completely convinced that they'll live to be tiny shrunken old ladies together and have a thousand little adorable Cheerio babies. She smiles at the thought. Rachel knows Brittany is sensitive and is probably misinterpreting something.

"I'm sure she's not mad at you. She's probably just really busy with the party. Santana wouldn't ignore you." Rachel smiles reassuringly at the blonde.

"Promise?" Brittany asks; her wide, trusting eyes locked onto Rachel's.

"I promise." Rachel replies, grabbing Brittany's hand and helping her off the countertop. "Let's go find her, okay?

x x x

Rachel remembers vividly the last time she was on the second story at Santana's house, despite having been completely wasted. She knocks timidly on Santana's door and hears a slightly muffled version of what sounds like the end of a phone call before Santana opens the door. Rachel steps aside to reveal Brittany and presses herself out of the way against the hallway wall to give the girls some semblance of privacy.

Santana's look of annoyance at finding Rachel behind the door quickly dissipates and morphs into a look of worry when she notices Brittany. "B, what's wrong?"

"San?" Brittany toes the ground nervously and brings her face up as she transfers her gaze from the carpet to Santana's face. "I thought you were mad at me… but Rachel said she didn't think you were trying to get away from me downstairs?"

"Oh B, no!" Santana looks heartbroken. "No, no, Britt." She reaches her left hand to grab Brittany's where they are clasped tightly in front of her. Her right hand reaches up to wipe a tear from her girlfriend's cheek and softly cup her face. "I'm sorry, B. I had to make a call and take care of something really quick." She smiles to show Brittany that she's not mad. "You just- you made me think of something. I wasn't running away from you." She wraps her arm around Brittany's waist and pulls her girlfriend in close to her side. "Okay?"

"Okay." Brittany sniffles and smiles up at Santana.

x x x

Santana feels terrible. No matter how long they've been best friends and now girlfriends; she still sometimes forgets how sensitive Brittany is.

After hearing Rachel let slip that her dads would be out of town for a week, she felt compelled to do something. Santana remembers being alone after… She recalls the way she used to deal with her problems when she was alone at night with her feelings. She closes her eyes to stop the shudder that passes through her. That urge won't ever go away, no matter how long it's been. Santana can't let Rachel feel that. She needs to make sure she's safe. She didn't realize exactly what to do until she saw Brittany… which sent her dashing upstairs to her room with an idea. She didn't realize how the blonde would take it.

She sighs. She forgets that her girlfriend gets upset when she disappears for a couple of minutes without informing her, and here she was gone for almost an hour. She pulls Brittany closer to her side and kisses her cheek.

"You know I love you, right?" She whispers into her girlfriend's ear.

"Yeah. Me too. Promise you're not mad, San?"

"Of course not, sweetie." Santana reaches over and links her left pinky with Brittany's. "B, I promise I'll tell you later, 'kay?"

Brittany smiles. She always loves when Santana links their pinkies together. It's their thing. It means everything's ok. "Thanks, San."

"Let's go back downstairs."

x x x

After a few more hours of laughing and chatting and singing and games, the party begins to wind down.

"Okay, you guys. It's getting late… I should be getting back home." Finn presses his giant hands to the cushions on either side of his thighs and heaves himself up off the couch.

"Well, he's my ride. I'll see you guys next week at school?" Kurt smiles and stands up to follow Finn. "Thanks for inviting me, Santana."

Murmurs of agreement sound through the room and soon everyone is up from their chairs, hugging and saying goodbye. Rachel makes her way to the foyer at the back of the group as she prepares to leave. Before she can reach the door, however, she feels a small hand wrap around her wrist and she whips around to face Santana.

"Hold up, Berry. I'm having a girls' night. You're staying."

"But-"

"Yay! Oh my god, really?" Brittany claps excitedly and appears suddenly at Rachel's side to wrap her arms around the smaller girl. "It's going to be so much fun! Rachel's never been here for one of our 'girls' nights' before." Brittany lifts her head up from Rachel's shoulder and winks at her.

Santana's eyes widen at Brittany's use of air quotes. She clears her throat. "Not _that_ kind of girls night, B." She gives a mental shudder at the implications of Brittany's insinuation. _Ew. Hobbit._ Okay maybe reminding herself that Rachel is gross is just a reflex and it probably wouldn't be that bad… but she's pretty sure Rachel doesn't swing that way. "Q's staying, too." She adds, trying to simultaneously make Brittany stop talking and to give Rachel something else to think about before she realizes what Brittany meant.

Rachel doesn't make an effort to keep her confusion from showing on her face. Why are Santana, Brittany, and Quinn having a girls' night with _her_?

"I mean, I would have invited like, Mercedes and Kurt and Tina but I'm pretty sure when you all have your sleepovers you sit around singing Broadway and shit. I'd probably have to kill myself."

"But… But I didn't bring anything with me!" Rachel insists, not entirely caught up with the conversation.

She's been busy trying to imagine what on earth the girls could be planning to do to her. _This is it. This is what they've been planning for. Oh god, they're probably going to murder me and stuff me in a closet. _

"That's ok. I have pajamas you can wear and extra toothbrushes in the guest room. You're staying, Berry." Santana pulls Rachel from Brittany's grasp and drags her upstairs before she can object again. Brittany giggles before following the girls up to Santana's room.

x x x

"S invited Rachel to stay over too!" Brittany sits next to Quinn on the living room couch, and grabs the bottle of vodka from the table. "Want some?" Earlier, after throwing a pair of pajamas at Rachel to try on, Santana pulled Brittany aside to explain her plan. Although slightly disappointed that it does not in fact involve any kind of sex, Brittany is happy to have the company and be able to help Rachel.

"She- she what? Really?" Quinn makes a sad attempt at keeping a smile from blossoming on her face at the prospect of a night with Rachel. Whatever. Santana's not here. _Jesus, Q. Control yourself. _She snatches a shot glass from the table and holds her hand out to Brittany. Social lubricant. Exactly what she needs to ease her Rachel-induced awkwardness.

"Yeah. San doesn't want her to be lonely since her dads are gone."

Quinn doesn't try to hide her smirk before downing her shot. It seems she's not the only one with a mysterious soft spot for a certain tiny brunette.

x x x

Hours after the other glee kids left, Rachel is curled up in the corner of the loveseat in the living room marveling at the seamless conversation she's been carrying on with the three cheerios who have made her high school life a living hell. God, her freshman year self would kill for this… a "girls night" sleepover with the three most popular girls at McKinley? But now… now she's just paranoid _all the time_. But despite being deeply wary of the three girls with whom she's conversing, the night has been progressing quite well.

"So I told Finn _again_ that he should really stop asking me out-"

"Girl, you gotta regulate." Santana cuts in, holding up a finger to stop Quinn from finishing.

"Okay Santana seriously, stop talking like that. I mean, I prefer it to the Spanish, but honestly_. I'm_ more ghetto than you are."She waves her hand in a circle in front of her, indicating the lavishly decorated living room in which the four girls are currently sitting.

"Oh, whatever, Tubbers. You should be thanking me. You'd probably be all up on that awkwardly gargantuan oaf if it weren't for me warning you about how terrible he is in bed. Worst twenty seconds of my life." Santana crosses her arms in front of her and looks haughtily toward Quinn for her response.

Quinn tries in vain to stop the blush from blossoming over her cheeks. "I… would not! We're just friends. I don't see him that way. I keep trying to tell him that."

Santana laughs and nudges Brittany with her elbow. "Check it, B. Q's blushing. Still haven't lost it yet, Quinnie?" Santana grins evilly as Quinn's blush deepens. "Hey, I offered to help you with that."

"You should take her up on her offer, Quinn. San was the first person I had sex with. Why would you want to be a virgin?" Brittany pipes up, clearly oblivious to the deeply embarrassed look on Quinn's face.

Santana notices Rachel shift uncomfortably in her seat at the direction the conversation is heading. She can tell that Rachel's mind is taking her somewhere else. The smile fades from Santana's face and she lowers her voice so just Brittany can hear her. "B, lets drop it."

"Why?"

Santana nods her head toward Rachel, hoping that's enough of an explanation. Brittany has always been good at reading negative emotions.

"Oh. San's right, Rachel, you do look sad. Is it because Jesse made you have sex with him when you didn't want to?"

Rachel can feel every eye in the room turn to her face.

_Shit._

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><p><strong>I had a very difficult writers-block-ful time writing this, so reviews would be much appreciated! Even a few words just to let me know if you loved or hated it.<strong>

**... Your reviews remind me that there are actually people reading this and that I should sit down and write some more!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! **

**I'm not sure if I can communicate how much I love you all. Thanks so much for the lovely reviews and messages, and thanks once again to everyone who continues to read. And to all my new people, hello! I love you, too.**

**To all of you anons to whom I was unable to reply, thank you! I made a sincere effort to reply to each and every review I got, but this time around I may have missed a few... it's almost finals week. School comes first! **

**But here we are, back on track with Thursday midnight updates. Enjoy. This one may be short but I love it.**

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><p>"…<em>Is it because Jesse made you have sex with him when you didn't want to?"<em>

She knew this would happen. She knew Santana would tell Brittany but she still can't help but feel betrayed. She never even told Santana exactly what happened… and it's much more complicated than the sentence Brittany just reduced it to.

Silence fills the space in the room from wall to wall, carpet to ceiling. Santana looks genuinely shocked, Quinn's eyes dart quickly between the three other girls in the room, and Brittany seems to have just realized she's said something she shouldn't have. Rachel snaps her mouth closed, embarrassed at having had such a visual reaction to Brittany's words. But what can she say?

"I- I- um…" She stutters in an effort to say something if only just to break up the stifling silence in the room, but no real words come out.

Quinn's head snaps to the left and her eyes lock onto Rachel's as she tries to speak. Her emotions are so strong she can feel them blazing through her veins, in every part of her body. First confusion, then hurt and anger and frustration and sadness. She's furious with Santana because she clearly knew. That must have been how Brittany found out. Quinn has known for weeks now that Santana knew more than she was letting on, but knowing without a doubt and seeing proof is almost more than she can handle. What's that feeling? Oh. Jealousy. She's jealous of Santana for knowing? Jealous that Rachel trusted someone like _Santana Lopez_ with that information. Maybe Rachel didn't tell her. Maybe she figured out on her own… after all she knows a thing or two about the subject…

Quinn feels her insides tighten. She's once again flooded with the urge to protect Rachel against what's bothering her, but this time she knows. Jesse. Quinn has never wanted to disembowel someone in her entire life but her urge to do so to Jesse is overwhelming her body. She tears her eyes from Rachel's panicked ones to glance at Santana. She doesn't know how personally Santana is taking this but thinking back on the last week or so, she realizes she hasn't seen Santana so affected by something since their freshman year.

"I-" Brittany begins and everyone's eyes snap to her face. "I'm sorry, Rachel." She stares at the ground, mentally tracing the individual grey loops that make up the living room carpet. She's scared to look at Santana. She can tell by Rachel's reaction that it wasn't something she should have said. Her lower lip trembles at the situation she's created.

"It's not your fault, Brittany." Rachel chokes out before leaping up from the couch and darting out of the living room. The girls hear the pounding of her bare feet on the wooden stairs as she takes them two at a time to the second floor of the house.

x x x

Quinn stares wide eyed at Santana and Brittany for a moment before realizing she doesn't care what Santana thinks right now. Getting to Rachel is more important. She reaches the stairs only moments after hearing the guest room door click shut upstairs.

She follows Rachel and ends up standing just outside the door, listening. She hears slightly hitched breaths muffled by the door but still distinguishable in the silence of the second floor hallway. Quinn stares at the door for a moment before realizing she doesn't know what to say. She has no idea. She's never been good at this kind of thing. Feelings were never an option in the Fabray household. They simply weren't discussed. Occasional displays of 'weakness' were ignored and swept under the rug. She doesn't know how to handle such a blatant display of emotions… but she reminds herself that Rachel probably needs someone. She can't leave her alone in there after what just happened. She also can't go back downstairs because she's fairly certain that Santana and Brittany are going to have a lot to talk about after what just happened. She takes a deep breath and places her hand on the doorknob. She's going to have to suck it up. For Rachel.

x x x

"San, I'm sorry. I thought maybe we could talk about why Rachel was sad."

"B, I know. I just… didn't think you'd say anything about it. That's not really something you talk about."

"Like how you don't like to talk about stuff sometimes?"

"Yeah… just like that." They never bring it up so when it becomes the topic of conversation Santana has to try really hard not to let her mind go to those places and remember the things she doesn't want to remember. She clenches her eyes shut and tries to think of something else. Anything else.

_Santana passes a mirror in the hallway and smirks at herself. There's no way anybody here would be able to tell she's only thirteen. She purses her glossed lips and smoothes her short skirt over her thighs. _

_Before she's even spent 15 minutes at the party, a tall, handsome guy is introducing himself as captain of the football team at McKinley and pressing a red cup into her hand. She smiles back at him. She hasn't even begun her freshman year yet and here she is at her first high school party, flirting with a guy at the top of the social food chain. She's spent her whole life waiting for high school and she's determined to start off on the right foot._

_After a few hours, she's not so sure. Everything is fuzzy and she can't remember why this all seemed like a good idea. She wants to go home. She's being fed shots of something and each one detaches her more and more from reality. There's a voice in her head and she's not sure if it's hers or if it belongs to the person whose hot breath she can feel on her ear. She can't remember his name right now. What does he want? _

"San?" Brittany's concerned voice brings her back to reality.

"Hey yeah, sorry. Just zoning out." Santana squeezes Brittany's hand reassuringly. "But that's not really something I think Rachel wants people to know about, so we shouldn't talk about it in the future, kay?"

"Oh…. Did Quinn not know? Because she's been so nice to Rachel… I- I thought that meant she knew." Santana can see the beginning of tears shining in Brittany's bright eyes. "I didn't mean to tell her secret."

"B, it's ok. It already happened, you can't change that." Santana tightens her grip on Brittany's hand, rubbing her thumb over the smooth skin of her girlfriend's palm.

"I know. I just feel bad. I really didn't know, San." Brittany sighs and leans her head against Santana's shoulder.

"I know Britt. That's why I love you."

x x x

"Hey, Rachel." She hears Quinn's soft nasal voice floating to her from the doorway.

Without opening her eyes, Rachel lets out a relieved breath she's been holding since she first heard footsteps ascending the stairs. She's not sure she could have handled Santana coming to find her. Or Brittany, honestly. Quinn is the safest… And Rachel's had this strange urge to open up and spill her guts to Quinn lately. There's some kind of a connection she can't explain but it grows every time she reflects back on Quinn holding her hand and rubbing her back and talking softly to her in the locker room… Rachel almost feels like she could talk to her. If she were the kind of person to do that sort of thing, of course.

"…hey."

"Are-" Quinn clears her throat after her voice breaks, then starts over. "Are you okay?"

Rachel just looks at her from her place in the center of the guest room bed. It's such a loaded question. Is she okay? Has she ever been okay? In the moment, yes… she's fine. She's not about to throw a chair out the window or punch someone in the face or claw her own eyes out so in theory, she's okay. But in general? In the grand scheme of things? No. How can she be? Maybe she could have handled it in her own mind like she has been for the last few months, but now _they_ know. Santana figured it out and Brittany knows and she actually said the words out loud. So now Quinn knows. And she's standing here in the doorway to Santana's guest room asking if Rachel is okay.

She laughs a little bit to herself. She can't help it. The last time someone asked her that she was sitting in this exact room. On this bed. And look where that got her. Quinn steps forward tentatively, as if she's afraid Rachel will spook. Rachel tracks Quinn's motion from the corner of her eye, watching as she inches toward the bed before pulling herself up and sitting inches away from Rachel in the center of the bed. Their combined weights on the mattress cause it to dip, pitching their bodies in closer to each other.

Rachel closes her eyes again. Santana and Brittany already know. Part of her is compelled to tell Quinn everything.

_When Jesse offered to make his famous hot chocolate, she didn't realize that it included whatever liquor was readily available. She didn't realize it even as Jesse was around the corner from the pantry, 'borrowing' from her dads' liquor cabinet. She didn't realize until the first sip of the concoction burned her tongue and throat… for more reasons than just the heat. She didn't realize, and she never had time to talk herself out of it. She rationalized it and reminded herself that it wasn't a school night, nobody was driving, and she was with a friend. She just went along with it, because it was Jesse._

_But she's four cups in and now there are holes in her night. They finished Funny Girl and she doesn't remember the transition between movies but they're somehow watching The Band Wagon. She would have never agreed to watch it; she's really not a fan of Cyd Charisse (mostly because she can't dance with that kind of passion but Rachel Berry certainly isn't one to admit her flaws). She doesn't remember the movie starting and she doesn't remember lying down on the couch. There's an empty blackness where there should be an explanation of how Jesse ended up beside her, stroking her thigh through her jeans. She didn't realize until just now what he was doing. They're friends. They don't touch like that. What is happening?_

"_Jesse?"_

"_Mhm?" He mumbles; eyes glued to the television._

"_Um… you're caressing my thigh."_

"_Oh. Yeah."_

_She can tell she's uneasy because her brain is telling her she should be, but the alcohol is muffling the actual emotion. "Stop!" She laughs uncomfortably, trying to make it sound less serious. _

_He stops._

_Minutes have passed but she can't remember them. A second ago she was telling him to stop, but now his hand is at the crotch of her jeans, pressing down and rubbing again. She doesn't remember him touching her again. Why are there spaces she can't remember? Why can't she follow what's happening? Where was she when he started again? She feels a tremor beginning in her stomach. Her muscles clench and fingers tremble. She's losing control. How can she be in control if she keeps blacking out? _

"_Jesse, what are you doing?"_

_No answer._

"_Jesse! Stop. Seriously."_

_He does, but leaves his hand where it is._

_Her shaking increases. What is that emotion? She can't put a finger on it. Fear? You're not afraid. It's just Jesse. Your friend, Jesse._

"_We're… too drunk. It's going to be so awkward if anything happens. You don't want this, do you?" She prods, her voice of reason still speaking loudly in her head even in her inebriated state. _

"_Mmmmno." He mumbles again, eyes closed. He's had the same amount of the hot chocolate as she has, but she caught him taking quick swigs from the vodka bottle when he went to refill their mugs._

_She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing back into the couch. Control. She's safe._

_Her eyes fly open a moment later. His lips are on hers, tongue prodding against her unresponsive lips. She places a hand square in the middle of his chest and shoves him away. He's been kissing her for minutes now… she knows he has, but why doesn't she remember it?_

"_Stop! We can't do this. We can't-" She wishes she could get up. Get away. She's just so…. tired. She can't make her body move. Pushing him away from her stole the last vestiges of her strength. The fuzzy cloud in her brain pulls her closer and closer to sleep, and further and further from mustering the energy to get away._

_Suddenly he's kissing her again and she's kissing him back. It wasn't a conscious decision but somehow it's happening. And his hands… his hands are everywhere. They're everywhere everywhere and she can't keep up. She can't follow. She can't push them away anymore and she can't make him stop and why is she kissing him back? She manages to sever the connection and pull her head from his. She feels like her head is detached from her body. Her neck is a limp, uncontrollable noodle. She can't move her head any more but her face is still uncomfortably close to Jesse's._

"_We need to stop. Please. We're so… I'm too drunk. God. I can't even think anymore."_

"_Mmmmmkay." Jesse agrees verbally, even as his right hand slides between them and begins unbuttoning and unzipping her pants._

"Rachel?" Quinn tries to pull Rachel back to reality as quietly as possible. She can tell there's something Rachel wants to say.

"It wasn't…." Rachel pauses… how can she explain without talking about it? She's not ready to talk about it. "It wasn't like Brittany said. I mean, it's not that easy. I… I know what you must be thinking."

"I'm not thinking anything." Quinn pauses for a moment, waiting for Rachel to say something. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." The answer comes so quickly, Quinn feels like she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before Rachel's hasty reply. "I mean yes. But not… It wasn't… It's not like it sounds."

She waits. Rachel looks like she's thinking. Quinn holds her breath, afraid that even the slightest movement will scare the small girl. She looks so vulnerable and she is so clearly on the verge of saying everything, but something is stopping her. "I- I can't…" she trails off.

"It's okay."

"No! It's not that, I just… can't explain. It's really not that big of a deal. It's so… stupid. But I just don't want to talk about it. It's not how Brittany made it sound. It's not that easy."

"I know, you said that."

"It wasn't just him. I was there, too. He was… as coherent as I was."

Quinn realizes what she's trying to say. She feels the anger broiling up within her stomach. She doesn't care _what _happened between Rachel and Jesse, but the fact that it reduced such a bright, exuberant girl to _this _makes her furious. She's never been that great at directing her anger but she's having no problem with that right now. Rachel is clearly trying to convince her that this is not a big deal.

"Rachel…."

"Look, I know. I just…. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand."

Quinn wants so badly to talk Rachel out of the way she's feeling but she can tell it's not what Rachel needs. So she holds her tongue. "Okay." She takes a breath and pauses, tilting her head to look into Rachel's eyes. "If you ever want to try… to explain, I mean… I'll be here."

"Thank you, Quinn." Rachel's lower lip trembles slightly and her gaze shifts down to her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm sorry I've spent so much time… doubting you. I'm starting to realize that your intentions are actually honorable." She smiles and her eyes move up to meet Quinn's.

Quinn can feel Rachel's breath on her face. They're so close now. What is this _feeling?_ It's like everything she's felt for Rachel during the last two weeks compounded into this one moment and it's increasing exponentially with every soft puff of warm, moist air Quinn feels on her cheek. She leans closer. Suddenly her entire body is consumed with the unrestricted urge to lean forward and press her lips to Rachel's.

_What. The. Fuck. _

Her entire body tenses as she begins to panic, throwing her body away from Rachel and standing up. She stammers out some sort of apology or explanation or something, she's really not sure, and she stumbles from the room into the hallway, pressing the door closed behind her. She closes her eyes and shakes her head back and forth to rid herself of the unwelcome thoughts she's just realized the presence of.

_You're a girl. You like boys. Big, manly… muscles… _She cringes._ What the fuck just happened? What is Rachel doing to me? _Her stomach is still flip-flopping furiously and her heart is in her throat. Her brain is running a million miles an hour. She pushes herself away from the closed door and moves entirely on autopilot. From the stairs to the foyer to the freezing cold front walkway and even though she's forgotten her coat she doesn't care. She doesn't remember to turn the heat on or her seat warmers, she just drives straight home with her heart beating steadily in overdrive inside her chest until she reaches her room and throws herself still clothed underneath her covers, pulling them up over her head to shut out the world.

And even then her heart won't shut up.

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><p><strong>Again, thank you so much for all the reviews. I say it every time, but even just a word or two telling me if you loved or hated it really makes my day! <strong>


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I had finals and incidents at work but now I'm on break and finally had time to write.**

**Here's Chapter 8. Enjoy.**

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><p>It's been two weeks since Quinn ran out on Rachel. Two weeks since she was flooded with the all-encompassing urge to kiss her. Another girl. She can never forgive herself for getting so invested in Rachel's life. The next morning Quinn had been so mortified by her behavior… she needed to erase what almost happened. She needed to erase her thoughts. So she drove to Finn's house and surprised him.<p>

_He answers the door less than ten seconds after she presses the doorbell. He's flushed and out of breath but she doesn't wait. Quinn launches herself into his arms and presses her lips against his. It had to be him. It had to be Finn. He wants her, and he's been making it extra clear lately. _

_When their lips meet, Finn startles and doesn't respond, but it only takes a few short seconds before he's kissing her back. Her stomach plummets. She doesn't feel anything. She felt more alive in the moments before she almost kissed Rachel than she does now. The feel of Rachel's breath on her cheek, those chocolate brown eyes peeking from behind thick, dark lashes… Finn isn't even a blip on the radar in comparison. Quinn kisses Finn back furiously. She has to feel something. He's a boy. She's supposed to feel things for boys. Not girls. And certainly not Rachel._

_When she realizes what this might mean, she wants to cry. It's all making sense. Her protective urges toward Rachel, her desire to be closer to her, the sudden touchy-feely inclinations and her flustered reactions when she tries to converse with Rachel. Oh god. She likes Rachel. She LIKES Rachel. It's kind of pathetic and entirely screwed up that she's having this revelation while Finn is slobbering on her chin and licking her teeth but she doesn't even register that. Instead, she wants to die. She's never questioned her sexual orientation before. She's never had to. She was going to grow up and get married and have babies and grow old with the man of her dreams. This… this never factored in. She pitied people like Kurt and Santana and all they had to go through but she never identified with it. She never thought she'd have to. This has to be a phase. A fluke. Something about Rachel… but it will pass._

_She's made her decision. She pulls away from Finn and surreptitiously wipes his drool from her chin._

"_Let's go out."_

"_What?"_

"_You were right, we should date. Let's go out."_

"_O-okay?" Finn stammers, still surprised by the kiss and unable to believe his luck._

"_Pick me up at seven tomorrow. Don't be late." _

Quinn has never felt so hopeless. She forces herself through dates with Finn now. When did dating boys become a chore? The amount of time she had to spend with him through the rest of spring break was excruciating. She tries to let him kiss her without making a face. Sometimes it makes her want to break down and cry, and then she berates herself later. She wants so badly to feel something for him but ever since her revelation about Rachel, the other girl is all she can see. So, naturally, she's been avoiding her since that night. However, the first day back at school after break was a challenge.

_She walks down the halls, head held high. Word travels fast and the whole school already knows she's dating Finn. She's still on top, and to remind herself of that she's ordered a barrage of slushie attacks against Rachel. She convinces herself that it's to remind everyone of her place at the school but she knows it's a test. She's testing her willpower… and maybe torturing herself a little at the same time. _

_Sure enough, the moment she rounds the corner and is met with the tableau of two hulking jocks bearing down on Rachel with slushie cups in hand under her orders, her heart falls. It's physically paining her to keep an impassive face. She braces herself as the football players toss the freezing cupfuls of ice and syrup at Rachel. They high five each other and turn away, winking at Quinn as they walk past. _

_Rachel's head lifts, strings of clumped hair clinging to her cheeks. Their eyes meet. Quinn watches the sticky red ice dripping down her face and running in rivulets down her neck, soaking into her schoolbooks and dripping from the torn corner of her notebook to land in a steadily growing puddle at her feet. Her heart breaks. The look in Rachel's eyes… God. It's like she's expected it all along. It's all Quinn can do to keep from crying. She's amazed she's able to hold herself together long enough to storm past Rachel with an indifferent look plastered across her face before rounding the corner and breaking down. _

She called off the slushie attacks after that. She couldn't handle it. But she also knew she couldn't be around Rachel in any capacity. She makes an effort every afternoon during glee to sit as far from the girl as possible, ignoring the fiery glares Santana shoots her way. It's better this way. It might be killing her inside but she just needs to survive it.

x x x

Rachel went through the first days back from break in a daze. She had tried to keep her walls up, keep the three cheerios out, but it wasn't enough. She still let them in just a little bit… but that little bit was enough to tear her up when they left her. She hasn't heard from Quinn since she ran out of Santana's guest bedroom over break. In the first days back at school, she waited for the inevitable blowup. They all knew. It was only a matter of time before the whole school found out.

But it never happened. School started. She was slushied only once by Quinn's orders. It never happened again. If Rachel had to guess, she'd say that had something to do with the look she noticed on Quinn's face as she blinked the corn syrup and food coloring out of her eyes. Her brown eyes met Quinn's hazels for a split second before the other girl stormed past, but Rachel definitely noticed something there. Regret? Longing of some kind? She doesn't really know. She's trying not to think about it.

During the last two weeks, she's had absolutely zero contact with Quinn Fabray. The most Rachel sees of her these days is the swish of her red pleats next to Finn in the hallway or a curtain of blonde hair hiding her face in the front row during glee. Rachel doesn't know whether she should be thankful or worried. On one hand, it was kind of nice having Quinn as a prospective friend. She seemed nice and understanding and like she could genuinely care about Rachel… but maybe that's wishful thinking. On the other hand, she's _Quinn Fabray _and staying far far away is probably Rachel's safest bet.

That was her plan for _all _of them. Staying far far away. But somehow Brittany has seriously latched onto her and Rachel doesn't have the heart to try to get rid of her because she's really sweet and mostly oblivious and when nobody's looking she usually holds Rachel's hand. Rachel has kind of a thing for human contact and somehow Brittany figured it out and now at almost every opportunity she'll sneak one of her hands into Rachel's, just to squeeze it and let her know she's there. And of course, with Brittany comes Santana. There was a time where Rachel would have thought of that as a bad thing, however, Santana has been surprisingly gracious lately. Rachel wishes it didn't have to be because she _knew things_. She would rather Santana didn't feel some kind of obligation or worse, _sympathy_, towards her because of the secrets she now knows, but she's still grateful to have the girl on her side as long as she keeps the insults and nose jokes to a minimum. She remembers the first time Santana noticed Brittany holding her hand during glee. Rachel's stomach dropped and she braced herself for a blowup, but Santana hardly looked at her. Her gaze went from their joined hands to Brittany's face and she smiled softly, kissed Brittany's shoulder, and linked their pinkies together. Rachel's been realizing lately that there's a lot she doesn't know about Santana Lopez. As much as she seems to come off as a bitch to everyone, Rachel has realized that it's mostly a front she puts up. She's noticed a lot of similarities between her and Santana lately. While Rachel's front isn't bitchy and angry like Santana's, she does turn bossy and difficult and controlling to keep people from getting too close to her when she's feeling vulnerable. Santana does the same, but the one person she never shuts out is Brittany. Somehow the tall dancer became her one weakness and after spending a fair amount of time with the couple it's become quite evident to Rachel. It's kind of cute. Who knew Santana Lopez was human?

Rachel looks up from the suspiciously non-vegan sludge on her plate she's been absentmindedly stabbing with her fork while she was deep in thought. Santana and Brittany just walked in the doors to the lunchroom, causing scared freshmen to duck their heads and various jocks to drool in envy at what they'll never have. Rachel watches as they split; Brittany heads toward her while Santana moves the opposite direction, attempting to intercept Quinn on her way out of the lunch room. Rachel looks questioningly at Brittany as Santana follows the other cheerio into the hallway.

"What's Santana doing?" As close as they've been lately, Santana and Brittany still don't eat lunch with Rachel. Brittany usually acknowledges her somehow but always chooses to sit next to her girlfriend at the table with the other cheerios and jocks.

"She said she had to talk to Quinn about something so I thought I would come sit with you." Despite there being ample space around Rachel's table, Brittany chooses to sit right next to Rachel on the bench, the right side of her body warming at the blonde's close proximity.

"Thanks, Brittany. Did you bring your own lunch? I'm not sure what this is but it looks revolting. I asked the lunch lady if it was vegan but she just winked and gave me another scoop." Rachel makes a face and pushes her lunch tray away to the other side of the table.

"Mhmmm," Brittany smiles, rocking side to side happily. "I have Gushers again and since San isn't here you can have half."

Rachel smiles and once again enjoys the simplicity of being with Brittany.

x x x

Santana appears next to Quinn as she's opening her locker after lunch. Like, literally appears. One minute the space next to her is empty and the next there's an angry brunette leaning against the locker glaring intensely at Quinn.

"The fuck is up with you, Q?"

"What are you talking about, Santana?" Quinn calmly transfers books from her backpack to her locker. She won't let Santana phase her. The girl operates solely on terrifying the shit out of people, and Quinn isn't about to give her that satisfaction.

"I'm talking about your sudden attraction to the ogre and decision to completely ignore Rachel. I mean, what the fuck? I thought we were all on the same page about her. She was all you talked about for weeks. And, god knows why, but she was actually starting to get along with you."

"Rachel and I were never friends." Quinn places her now empty backpack on a hook in her locker and glares right back at Santana.

"Yeah, I'm getting that now. And she won't tell me or Britt but I'm willing to bet it was you that had her slushied the first day back. What the hell is your problem, Fabray?"

"I don't have a problem, Satan" Quinn growls before slamming her locker shut.

"You need to fix your little girlfriend problems. Rachel has enough to deal with without you fucking things up for her."

Quinn whirls around.

"She's not my girlfriend. I'm dating Finn. Just because you're a lesbian doesn't mean you should project that onto everyone else." She turns back around and escapes down the hallway as it begins to fill with people, her heart pounding in her chest. She can't bear to turn around and see the smirk she's certain is plastered onto Santana's face. _Fuck._

_Where is Finn?_

x x x

Rachel realizes this is probably stupid. She knows that Santana would throttle her if she found out what Rachel was about to do. She's been staring at the screen of her phone since she got home from school after skipping glee, trying to figure out exactly what to say. She starts a new text, passing her thumb over the screen to scroll through her contacts until she gets to J. There he is. She hesitates for a moment, thumb trembling as it hovers over the name. This is stupid. Why is she overthinking it? She adds Jesse as the recipient and types out a quick _hey, can we talk?_ pressing send before she can chicken out.

Her heart thuds in her chest as the little progress bar above the text bubble confirms that the message was sent. Her face is hot and she can feel her thundering pulse in every extremity, muscles tensed and hands shaking as she stares at her phone. It takes less than a minute before there's a reply. Two words.

_Lima bean. _

She's going to do this. She's going to talk to Jesse. She keeps freaking out about it, but it's just Jesse. _He was your best friend._ She's tired of being scared. He's just a person. He's her friend and a person and she shouldn't be scared and she especially shouldn't be scared of going out to get coffee with him. They'll be surrounded by a bajillion other people getting coffee, for God's sake. She doesn't even know what she'll say, though. The whole situation is so ridiculous. How did this happen? Why does she have so many feelings about something so _trivial _and _STUPID?_

She sighs and hoists herself off her bed. She needs to rid herself of this irrational fear. _He's just a person._

Her phone vibrates again and she practically leaps on it. But, it's Santana. _Whatcha doin tonight, Berry? _Leave it to Satan, that voice of reason in her head, to text her as she's about to do something the girl would kill her for thinking about. She ignores the text, although Santana will most likely try to murder her later for not responding. Rachel has more important things to worry about.

Rachel needs to think about what to say to Jesse. She turns her phone to silent as she settles into the drivers' seat of her car. _Let's get this over with, _she thinks as she pulls out of the driveway.

x x x

Quinn has never been so determined in her life. She's not going to lose her nerve. Here in the dark of her bedroom, with her parents out for the night…

For the last two weeks she's been thinking of Rachel when she should be thinking of Finn. She needs to stop being so distracted, especially after her confrontation with Santana in the hallway today. When her parents mentioned that this month's neighborhood dinner club would be at another couples' house, she jumped at the opportunity and promptly invited Finn over. She needs to refocus her attention solely on him.

She's pulled from her thoughts by Finn's hot, moist breath on her neck. She meets his lips with hers again, pressing his hands down her body, encouraging him to help her out of her shirt. She's constantly amazed by the amount of saliva Finn is able to produce and then leave behind on every part of her body his lips touch. She has to try really hard not to be completely repulsed. Quinn closes her eyes as he pulls her shirt over her head and fumbles with her bra clasp. She squeezes her eyes tighter. She can't lose her nerve, this has to happen. Quinn runs her hands up his broad shoulders and anchors her fingers into Finn's hair, not worrying about the excessive force she's exerting on his scalp. She clenches her fingers tighter, opening her eyes to look down at the head making its way down her body. Finn. It's Finn. He's a boy and this is supposed to feel good. He reaches her stomach and her eyes close again. She may be in bed with Finn but she still can't keep her mind from Rachel.

_Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh my god. No._

She uses her knees and arms to push Finn up off of her and she shrieks a little while she hops off the bed.

"Quinn, what the hell?"

"Get out of my house."

"What the- Quinn!" Finn yelps as Quinn tears through the room and throws his clothes, hitting him square in the chest.

"We can't do this anymore. Leave. Seriously." She turns him around, pressing against his back and ushering him out of her room, down the stairs, and onto the front porch, not caring that he's exposed to her neighborhood in the frigid weather wearing just his boxers.

She slams the door in his face and barely makes out a muffled remark about "that time of the month" from behind the door. She doesn't care. She can't believe what just happened. She can't write it off as a fluke or hormones anymore. God… Every touch of Finn's hand on her body brought only one face to mind. Every stroke, every kiss, every look… Finn's eyes morphed into Rachel's. She could almost pretend that his giant hands were Rachel's tiny ones. When she realized what it was she was doing… imagining Rachel in place of Finn… Oh God. She couldn't go through with it anymore. She couldn't look at Finn anymore.

She doesn't just want to be friends with Rachel and it wasn't her hormones that made her want to kiss the girl. Her stomach drops as she realizes what that means. She likes Rachel. Actually likes her. _Likes _her. A girl. A girl who is completely, one hundred percent straight. This realization coupled with her aversion to boys touching her makes her _not _straight. Like… really not straight. Oh god.

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><p><strong>Thank you guys for sticking with this! I'm starting chapter nine right away and with some encouragement I may have it out before my birthday and Christmas take over my life! My birthday is Saturday- send good Faberry vibes and reviews in lieu of presents, please, and I'll see what I can do.<strong>

**Thanks for reading! **

**Don't forget to review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

******Sorry, this chapter took a little longer than I had anticipated. I had all but one scene written before Christmas but with all the craziness of the holidays and writers block and a lack of inspiration on my part, it took me a bit longer.**

**But here it is! Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy it.**

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><p>Rachel's memorized the disposable plastic lid of her Lima Bean coffee cup. Her fingers run over the lettering countless times. She can't look at Jesse's face. They've sat in almost complete silence for the last ten minutes and he looks thoroughly confused, while feels like she's about to throw up and is trying desperately to ignore the feeling in her stomach and gather her thoughts.<p>

Jesse breaks the silence first.

"So… are you going to tell me what's going on? Why you ignored my texts and flipped out when I went to see you at McKinley and why that scary cheerleader girl assaulted me and yelled at me in Spanish?"

Surprisingly, the mention of Santana calms Rachel a little. It feels comfortable. Familiar.

"Sorry. I just… freaked out a little because of um… the last time we saw each other?" She finally looks up and meets Jesse's eyes, willing him to remember without her explaining further because she's not sure she could take that.

"Oh. Yeah, that. God, we were so drunk." Jesse looks a little bit sheepish and the knot in Rachel's stomach loosens a little. He's just a person. They can talk about this. He was drunk too. It was okay.

"Yeah, we were…" She trails off.

"It was pretty great though, huh?"

"Um… yeah." Rachel answers automatically. What the hell was she supposed to say? _No, Jesse. I didn't want to do it at all and now I have nightmares about you and I couldn't think about your face for weeks without wanting to throw up and even now every time someone touches me without warning me first I freak out. Yes. Totally great. _Maybe she doesn't know how to do this. Why did she think she could do this?

He's talking now about how they should start hanging out again and how he's missed her but all Rachel can hear is his voice. It's the same tone of voice as that night. She's trying to connect the two people. This Jesse and _that _Jesse… It's not scary. She can sit here with him and she can talk about it and it should be so completely fine but why is it not? Why does she still feel sick? This isn't enough to cancel it out. It's still there. That memory trumps every memory she's ever had of Jesse which is so messed up because it's the haziest, too. It's clouded in alcohol and the fog of sleep deprivation but it still overrides everything else.

She's checked out of the conversation and is still staring deeply into her coffee cup as if it holds the answer to all her struggles, and she doesn't notice Jesse reaching across the table. He places his hand over hers, trapping her… or at least, that's what it feels like. This is so much worse than being touched without warning by anyone else because it's him. Now she can connect the two. And now she's scared.

But she can't just pull her hand away. That's… worse. She's not sure why but she knows she can't do it. She can feel her entire body anchored by that one touch. Just by his hand on hers. She can't move because then she'll feel it. She's almost afraid that he won't let her go and she can't handle that. It's better to keep her hand there and imagine that it's friendly, that he isn't trying to control her. She hates that her mind is so powerful because to anyone else this would look like two friends having coffee. And it is. Before this, they were friends. Friends. It's a friendly touch. It's not bad. Nothing to be scared of.

The first pull is a test. When her hand slides the first bit easily, she begins to slowly draw her hand out from under his. She uses it to grab her coffee cup. It's an easy enough excuse. She needs both hands, clearly. She's so distracted that she takes a huge gulp of her searing hot coffee, burning her throat in the process.

"Shit, Rachel, are you okay?" Jesse notices her obvious sputtering and fanning of her tongue.

"Yeah. Fine. Sorry. I'm just… really distracted." She searches her brain for an excuse. She can't handle this much longer. They should have done this over Skype, or something. Shit. "I have this glee assignment to work on tonight."

"Do you need help with it? I could come over."

"No!" She blurts, much too quickly. "I mean, no. It'll be fine. I have it figured out but I just need to practice; it'll be boring."

"Okay, well… text me later?" Jesse makes a move to pull her chair out and help her up but she stands up quickly on her own.

"Yes. Of course. I'll talk to you later. Bye Jesse." She walks quickly toward the door before he can follow her and try to do something chivalrous again.

Rachel is in such a hurry to leave and Jesse is so focused on her hasty exit that both fail to notice the person in the shadows behind the display station, watching.

x x x

The next morning at school, Rachel moves entirely on autopilot. Her mind is on Jesse. She hasn't been able to think about much else since meeting up with him last night. She's still not sure it was a good idea. It needed to be done, but it did nothing to quell her anxiety. She's still on edge. She's not any more comfortable around him. And she's pretty sure she put up a decent enough façade that he thinks nothing is wrong and will probably try to contact her even more often now. So maybe it was a completely bad idea. But then again, maybe it will get easier.

She thinks back to her sophomore year Psych class with Mrs. Simmons, the angry old lady who smelled like cats. What was it she called it? Systematic desensitization. That's what she needs. Gradual exposure to Jesse until she doesn't feel like bolting when he's near or crying when he touches her. She's not about to initiate on her own again, but maybe if he texts her back and asks her to hang out again… maybe she'll say yes.

She's so deep in thought she doesn't notice that she's been joined at her locker by someone else.

"Hey, Hobbit."

Where Rachel used to find Santana's nicknames offensive, she's realized that it's just the other girl's somewhat unorthodox way of showing affection and she now finds them sort of endearing. Although, to be perfectly honest, it probably has something to do with the fact that they are no longer hurled at her along with slushies and verbal attacks against her personality.

"Hello Santana. What are you-" Rachel barely stashes her books inside her locker and presses the door closed before Santana's long fingers wrap around her wrist and she yanks her into the bathroom.

"Santana! What on earth- you can't just pull people in to bathrooms, my goodness!"

Santana chooses to ignore Rachel's indignation and points at the girls doing their makeup in the long bathroom mirror. "You. Out."

The girls all look at each other then back at Santana, grabbing their purses before scurrying out the door. Santana smirks for a moment, relishing the power that being a member of the cheerios (and a complete bitch) brings her before locking the bathroom door and rounding on Rachel.

"You want to tell me what you were doing at the Lima Bean last night with St. Assface?"

Rachel breathes sharply in surprise and before she can say a word Santana cuts her off.

"And don't even try to deny it, Berry, I saw you two drinking your lattes in the corner and sitting disturbingly close to each other." Santana stalks her way toward Rachel across the bathroom and Rachel meets every step with a backwards one of her own. Santana backs her all the way into the corner by the sinks and Rachel opens her mouth to speak but Santana stops her with a finger.

"Not finished. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember not a month ago jamming my foot where the sun don't shine and scaring that creeper away from McKinley. Sooo… you want to tell me why you're throwing away all my hard work and talking to St. Jerkoff again?"

"I- He-" Rachel stutters. Santana caught her completely off guard. How could she have missed her? Granted, her back was to the rest of the store but Jesse had to have seen her… Crap. She's not prepared for a confrontation with Santana, at all.

"Spit it out, dwarf." Santana backs off a bit, but leans next to Rachel against the sinks, blocking her pathway to the door in case she decides to try to escape.

"I just… I needed to talk to him. To see him. I'm-" She pauses, trying to figure out how much of this she really wants to tell Santana. "I'm so tired of being afraid. It's like I've built him up in my mind and sometimes everything scares me but I just need… I have to remember that he's just a person."

She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts and figure out how to explain _why. _"Look, I understand it's not going to change what happened with him, but-"

"You mean what he did to you." Santana interjects.

Rachel can't take it anymore. Nobody understands. Everyone assumes that they know but nobody gets it. She feels a frustrated shriek building in her chest but pushes it back down. "It wasn't just him! It was me! I was there. I made a mistake that I can't take back and I can't… I'm dealing, okay? Just leave him alone and stop pointing fingers because it's not just him."

"What the hell, Rachel? This isn't your fault." Santana's words are becoming more forceful, trying to shock sense into Rachel.

Rachel feels her blood racing through her veins. Nobody understands. Nobody was there. Nobody knows. Every emotion she's been pushing back and trying to control comes bubbling to the surface and thrown at Santana. "I HATE MYSELF!"

Santana freezes. She wasn't expecting an outburst like that from Rachel.

Rachel looks about as shocked at her temper surge as Santana feels. Her eyebrows are pressed together and two straight white teeth are pressing indentations into her lower lip. Her voice is calmer than before but just as forceful. "You don't understand how much I hate myself for letting this happen." She pauses, staring down at the counter as a look of realization crosses her face. "God, I let this happen. I LET it happen."

"Stop, don't say tha-"

"No, you don't understand. I need to fix this. Please, just… just let me fix this."

"Rachel, I do understand."

Rachel looks up, the unfamiliar sound of her first name on Santana's lips halting her thoughts and bringing her focus to Santana's face. Something about the way she said it… Rachel can tell that she means it. She's not just pacifying her. How can she understand?

"What do you mean?"

"I don't… It's not important how I know, I just… do. And I _promise_ you, no matter what the little details are that make you think that your situation is different, that this was your fault, it wasn't. It took me a long time and a lot of agonizing over it to figure that out, but I promise, Rachel. No matter what you think your involvement was, it's not your fault." Santana feels herself teetering on the precipice. She's inches away from succumbing to her emotions. The hot tears gathering in the corners of her eyes are threatening to spill down her cheeks. She can't let them.

She swallows hard, trying not to choke on the lump in her throat. Her heart is breaking once again for Rachel. If she could only convince her… God, she remembers exactly what that felt like. When she felt just as confused and lost and at fault as Rachel does right now. She takes a deep, shaky breath, determined to hold herself together for Rachel's sake… but she knows she needs to end this encounter because she's inches from a breakdown. Shit. She never should have brought this up. She's not going to get through to Rachel but now she's going to know. She never allows herself to think about… _that_… because she's overcome with regret and fear and despair every single fucking time. She hates thinking about it. Fuck.

Brittany. She needs to get out of here and she needs to find Brittany.

x x x

It takes Rachel a few seconds to realize that the bell has rung, ending her second period class. The rustling of book bags and scraping of metal chair legs across the cheap flooring alert her that class is over. She slowly gathers her notebook and papers, shoving them haphazardly into her school bag.

Her mind is still on her conversation with Santana. Rachel wants to believe that she knows best when it comes to her own life. She's always made her own decisions and for the most part it has always worked out for her. She doesn't have any close friends whose opinions she takes into account. It's always been just her. But there's a nagging feeling she can't shake that maybe Santana is right… maybe she does know. She's never seen the girl show any kind of emotion except the occasional soft smile that comes when Brittany melts her hard exterior, but Santana legitimately looked on the edge of a breakdown. Between Santana's initial reaction and complete change of demeanor towards Rachel regarding what happened with Jesse, and their conversation in the bathroom, Rachel is beginning to think that Santana knows exactly how she feels. Maybe confiding in her was the right thing to do after all. And maybe listening to her now would be smart.

She's stopped suddenly in the hallway by a hand on her arm. Why do people have to try to get her attention so dramatically? The first thing she notices is the red uniform and she immediately thinks it's Santana again, but the soft voice that greets her belongs to an entirely different cheerio.

"Rachel, can we talk?"

Rachel's stomach drops. She hasn't talked to Quinn since spring break. She doesn't know what to think anymore. It seemed like they were almost friends over break. At least… they were getting along. Quinn helped calm her down when Brittany spilled her secret. Things were okay. But then she had her slushied and now Rachel doesn't know what to expect. Is Quinn back to her old self? She knows she should never have trusted her given their history, but Quinn was just so _nice_ over break. It figures, though. Rachel spent so much time waiting for the other shoe to drop, and just as she started to hope that maybe this time would be different, everything came crashing down.

She realizes she hasn't answered Quinn yet. The blonde is worrying her bottom lip between two perfect sets of straight, white teeth and Rachel has the fleeting thought that Quinn has such pretty lips and shouldn't bite them like that.

She nods her head in answer to Quinn's question and before she can blink Quinn has ushered her into the dark, empty art room. Neither of the two make a move toward the light switch and Rachel can't help but think how fitting this is. If she's about to be gruesomely murdered in an empty classroom, at least the lighting will be dark and dramatic.

Quinn's tongue darts out to wet her lips. She looks conflicted.

"Rachel, I…" Her voice catches and she clears her throat. A deep breath passes into her lungs and as she releases it her facial expression morphs into a neutral one. She steels herself.

Rachel can't figure out what's going on but she can certainly see the wall Quinn just put up. She feels miles away.

"I'm sorry."

Well, that's unexpected.

Quinn continues, her words tumbling out. "I'm so so sorry I had you slushied. And I'm sorry I ran out on you at Santana's house."

"It's fine, Quinn." Rachel didn't expect an apology and she's having a hard time figuring out if Quinn is being sincere or not. She decided weeks ago to never let her guard down in front of the cheerio again, so it probably doesn't even matter. She knew it was going to happen. It's Quinn Fabray, after all. "We both know our places at this school. You were right to remind me of that."

"It doesn't have to be like that, R- Berry." Quinn catches herself. She needs to be super careful of the familiarity with which she refers to Rachel. Maybe they can be friends, but they can't be close. She's going to take her cues from Santana. "Look, if Santana can be nice to you, so can I. I just had a momentary lapse when we came back from break."

Rachel gives her another guarded look. So many emotions have flitted across the smaller girl's face since Quinn pulled her into the classroom, Quinn doesn't know what to think. She's caught fear, trepidation, wariness, and defeat with little flickers of trust interspersed before the trust is covered up by something negative again. Quinn watches intently as Rachel bites her soft pink bottom lip and pushes her hair behind her ear with tiny hands. She catches the flutter of her eyelids and the shine in her eyes as she looks back up at Quinn's face. Her stomach flutters.

"Okay…" Rachel doesn't know what to do besides agree. She isn't about to argue with Quinn. But if the girl wants to be friends she just needs to make sure she doesn't ever let her guard down again. She's tired of thinking so hard about the intentions behind everyone's actions. There's always been a reason she hides herself.

"So, are we good?" Quinn tries again in vain to read Rachel's face. How did this happen? So much has happened to Rachel and from what she can gather, it's been a while since everything happened with Jesse. How did nobody notice? How can Rachel come to school every day and act like everything is okay? Looking at her face now, if Quinn didn't know what she did she would think that everything was fine. She's mildly impressed with Rachel's acting skills but also incredibly worried about her well-being. How can she ever know if Rachel needs help?

_It doesn't matter. You're her friend and nothing more. You're not going to get close again._

Rachel nods, silent in her agreement. She's not going to give anything more. Mostly she just wants to get out of this room and go to class before she's late again. Can't she get through a school day without having to deal with personal crap? Why do these girls insist on following her and accosting her between all of her classes?

"I have to get to class. Thank you for the apology, Quinn." The corners of Rachel's mouth curve up in the hint of her practiced show smile, words leaving her lips in the politest of tones. She steps around Quinn and leaves the room without looking back.

Quinn is surprised for a moment at the abrupt end to their conversation. What did she expect? At least Rachel doesn't seem to suspect anything. That tiny hint of Rachel's lovely, albeit fake, smile warms her face and gives her a slight flicker of hope.

Still facing the space Rachel just vacated, Quinn turns and leaves the room a few steps behind the other girl. She enters the hallway slowly, looking both ways to see if anyone's noticed. Then she catches a pair of calculating eyes from a locker at the end of the hallway. Finn. She can't tell if he saw Rachel leave first but he looks like he's trying to piece something together. Then again, it's Finn… he's always been out of the loop, bordering on completely oblivious. She shoots him a quick glare, daring him to say something before she turns the corner, leaving him behind.

x x x

Santana can't breathe. She tried so hard after her talk with Rachel to calm down. She sat in the dark, creepy janitor's closet for almost an hour trying to pull herself together but she can't. She supposes that this is what she gets for pushing her emotions back every time she starts to feel something negative. Once they get out of hand they take over and there's nothing she can do. She can't stay at school any longer. She rounds the corner, heart pounding. Her steps quicken as she nears Brittany's locker.

"B, I need to go home."

"What? It's only second period. San, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it here. I just… just take me home, please?" She needs to release her emotions somehow because she just feels so _full_ and she can't handle being at school any longer. She feels the walls of the hallway narrowing, threatening to trap her inside. Her breath starts to catch in her chest.

Brittany, recognizing the rare signs of an impending Santana breakdown, grabs her bag from her locker and pulls her girlfriend through the hallway toward the parking lot.

They make it back to Santana's house in record time. Her parents are out and the house is silent. Brittany guides her upstairs to her bedroom. Santana breaks away and trudges to her walk-in closet, presumably to change. Brittany sits on the bed and scans the room. It's comfortably cluttered; clothes and shoes are strewn across the floor and makeup covers the surface of the vanity. It's so very Santana. Brittany smiles at her own drawings of Lord Tubbington and stick figures of her and Santana holding hands she sees tacked up along the wall.

The closet door opens and Santana steps out in leggings and a sweatshirt Brittany recognizes as her own, probably left here the last time she spent the night. Santana crosses the room without a word, dropping heavily next to Brittany on the edge of the bed. Brittany slides her hand to Santana's back and tips her head down to look at her face. Before she can ask again what's wrong, Santana takes a deep shaky breath and a tear clings to her eyelashes for a moment before dropping to her lap.

"Oh, honey…" Brittany rubs her back, encouraging her silently to talk.

"I was talking to Rachel about Jesse and I was trying really hard not to but I just kept thinking about freshman year and…" She trails off and takes another deep breath, trying to press her emotions back down.

"Shhh, San… it's okay…" Brittany can feel her chin trembling. She hates seeing Santana like this. It's only happened a few times because Santana is so strong and so practiced at pushing her feelings away, but every single time it tears at Brittany's heart. Sometimes she thinks Santana is an extension of herself because it hurts her so much to see her hurt, too.

"I can't… do this right now. Just hold me, Britt?" Santana scoots back on the bed and lays down, her back to the blonde.

Brittany acquiesces, fitting her body along Santana's and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend from behind. She feels soft sobs racking Santana's body and she buries her face into dark hair, kissing the nape of her neck. She feels her own silent tears tracking down her face and she tightens her arms.

Despite it being so early in the day, Santana is asleep within minutes and as her irregular breathing begins to even out, Brittany can feel herself starting to drift off as well.

x x x

Quinn is pretty sure today was the longest in her existence. She made the mistake of talking to Rachel early in the morning, so their conversation hung over her head all day. But she had to apologize. She's been feeling so awful for having Rachel slushied, for ignoring her, for leaving her alone at Santana's... Quinn tried to do it without alerting Rachel's suspicion (Quinn Fabray was never one to apologize) but she shouldn't have worried. The defeated look on Rachel's face haunted her through all her classes, through lunch, through glee. By the time she made it home she was so emotionally exhausted she collapsed on a chair in the kitchen and has been sitting in the same spot for hours, staring at the granite her mother hand-picked and special ordered from Brazil. If she stares hard enough, the patterns in the stone start to morph and shift and she finds herself seeing shapes like one does in clouds.

Rachel.

She's been the only thing on Quinn's mind since she dumped Finn. How did she ever think Finn was a good idea? She just ended up making him suspicious. Her whole plan backfired. Her intent was to remind everyone at school that she was on top and in charge and remind herself that she liked boys. None of it worked. She ended up hurting Rachel, making Finn suspicious, and realizing that she was very seriously attracted to a completely straight girl. She still can't get over that. How can she feel so much more for Rachel than she has for any guy she's ever dated? They haven't even kissed. They've barely touched. And she's a girl. It's wrong. So wrong.

Quinn feels her nails digging into the palms of her hands. How did this happen? She grew up thinking – _knowing – _that being gay was wrong. It's the work of the devil. That's all she's ever heard. Her first knowledge of homosexuality came from her father walking in one night, spewing nasty words about the abomination that was "those Berry men". She remembers sitting through sermon after sermon, the stern eyes of her pastor daring anyone to disagree with him. Homosexuality is a sin. She feels a sob bubbling up in her throat. How did this happen to her? Is it God's punishment for the way she's treated others her whole life? She wishes she could take it back. She would take it all back.

Her parents would kick her out if they ever knew. There's no question. Her dad doesn't like her all that much anyway and her mother always goes along with what he thinks. Where would she go? Everyone hates her. Nobody would take her in. She's spent her life in high school making sure everyone feared her but where does that leave her now? Alone. She worries so much about what people think of her and how they see her and it's left her without any real friends. God, what would they all think? Their perfect, straight-laced celibacy club cheerio. A lesbian.

She shudders. She hates that word. It makes her feel physically sick. Maybe she's not. She can no longer deny her obvious attraction to Rachel, but maybe Rachel is an exception. Maybe, if she can make it through this, she'll start to like guys again. Nobody will have to know. Not people at school, not her parents, not the people at church. Certainly not Rachel. Never Rachel. All she can do is pray that this is a fluke. She can't take hurting Rachel anymore, but she can't get too close again. She'll be nice. Civil. That's it. Rachel can never know. If she can keep this buried until it goes away or until she graduates and goes to college, then nobody will ever know. She'll be safe. Everything will be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you guys all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. Please keep the reviews coming! I can't tell you how much it means to me that people are reading and enjoying this little thing I started writing just to get out some of my own issues. Even a couple of words to let me know you enjoyed it is encouraging!<strong>

**Also, if you haven't already (though I know many of you have!) come find me on Tumblr! The link is in my profile, and my URL is Three3LittleBirds. **

**Thanks so much again! I love you all.**

**And happy 2012!**


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